


The World Is Wide (But I Feel So Small)

by Buckets_Of_Stars



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anguish With A Happy Ending, BAMF Tony Stark, Complete, Doctor Bruce Banner - Freeform, Father-Son Relationship, Feels, Forced Sedation, Gen, Happy is Peter’s Godfather, He will not let anyone get away with hurting his child, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I suck at tagging, Innocent Peter Parker, Kidnapped Peter, Mama Bear Tony Stark, Nick Fury Swears, Nightmares, No Knowledge Of Criminal Justice System, OC is creepy, Overprotective Tony, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Stark - Freeform, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Precious Peter Parker, Prompt Fill, Protective Tony Stark, Recovery, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony is a protective mama bear, Tony sings, Torture, Uncle Happy, Worried Tony Stark, Young Peter Parker, and nothing can convince me otherwise, dad tony, peter whump, son peter, trigger warning for blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-12-31 18:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12138576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckets_Of_Stars/pseuds/Buckets_Of_Stars
Summary: When Peter is abruptly taken from Tony by a mysterious criminal, the teen has to fight tooth and nail to make it out of the man's clutches, testing him every step of the way as he tries desperately to get back to his Dad.Tony just wants to find his child and make the bastard responsible pay for his actions.By any means necessary.





	1. Peter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This was sent to me as a prompt by Alana on Words Echo (Through My Head). I hope this is what you were looking for, and I'm sorry it took so long to write!:)
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

* * *

 

When Peter opens his eyes, the world is tilted sideways.

  
Blinking rapidly, the teenager breathes in, his chest rattling with a wheeze, eyesight slowly becoming clearer as he tries to lift his heavy head. He gets it halfway up, feeling the kink in his neck pop as he looks up through his eye-lashes around the dimly lit room.

  
A slightly swinging light comes into view above him, the dim yellow bulb casting warping shadows on the dark walls as it is moved by a faint breeze. Water is everywhere, dripping from the tall ceiling, puddles lining the cracked floor and flowing toward the far wall on a slight angle. A metal table, the dull edges glistening in the muted light, sits against a far back wall, the top of it too tall for the young Stark to see what it holds. Shifting his weight, the teen grimaces as the metal cuffs holding him to the wall clink together, his hands clenching and unclenching tightly against the sharp iron as he fights down his panic.

  
_Where the hell is he?_

  
He remembers leaving his father's Tower that morning, throwing his backpack over his shoulder and hugging the man goodbye. His Dad, watching him with warm eyes as he shoved a piece of slightly burnt toast into his mouth, had kissed the top of his head, telling him to remember to stay after for extra tutoring for Spanish. Peter had smiled, calling out a hasty "Love you!" before making a mad dash toward his bus stop, Tony's response getting lost as the wind blew in his ears.

  
He had barely made it past the first corner before he was taken, his body going limp as a prick in his neck stunned him, his spider senses screaming in alarm. Darkness folded over his eyes, a car engine roaring somewhere behind him. The last thing he remembers thinking is the fact that his Daddy was only a few blocks away, and that he had no idea what was going on.

  
Peter, blinking back the sudden tears that fill his burning eyes, really wishing he would have heard what his Dad said now, knowing that the words would have offered a small dose of comfort as he lifts his head once more, the room whirling around him as he explodes with dizziness.

  
Giving a groan, Peter's brain finally begins to restricter the pain he must have been feeling the whole time, his panic having muted the effects.

  
It starts in his arms, a dull burning sensation that has him gasping, the rusty taste of blood coating his tongue and making him gag. The agony slowly becomes more apparent, his whole body shivering as his wet and freezing clothes and skin makes contact with the air. Teeth chattering, the teenager swallows the bile that threatens to escape as his blurry eyes catch the sight of red littering the concrete floor beneath him, splatters and droplets creating a nightmarish painting.

  
Panting heavily, the spiderling starts to pulls weakly on the metal holding him to the wall, his sore muscles burning as the drugs he was injected with flows through his veins. The metal squeaks in protest at the force of his tugs, but holds tight, and Peter gasps out a sob, gritting his teeth as a shudder ranks through his small body.

  
_C'mon_ _Peter!_ He thinks, his sweat matted hair falling into his eyes, the dried blood coating the brown locks sticking to his wet and burning face. _C'mon_ _Spider_ - _Man! C'mon_!

  
But his encouraging thoughts are no match for the metal surrounding his wrists, and with a whimper, the teen slumps against the cold wall, his fingers torn raw and blazing red. More blood drips from his head to the mildew infested floor below, the soft splat sounding far more gruesome then the chorus of water droplets that echo through the cell. Gasping, Peter rests his head against the wall, feeling the pounding vibrating through his skull suddenly flare up, pinching his eyes shut tightly as a few stray tears leak out.

_  
I want my Dad._

  
He tries to ignore the thought, knowing that he has to be strong for whatever is going to happen next, but he is in pain, confused and _terrified_ and he isn't Spider-Man right now; right now he is just ordinary Peter Stark and he doesn't know what- what is happening or what they want with him and- _and he just wants his Daddy to find him and make it better._

  
So Peter cries. He knows that when his captor comes back he has to be strong, but for now he is alone, so he lets it all out. Pushing his throbbing head hard against the dirty wall, the teen stuffs his hand in his mouth to smother the sound of his low wails, the sleeve of his _Star_ _Wars_ sweater getting smushed up against his bleeding nose. As he sobs, he subconsciously breathes in the scent still clinging to the now red fabric, feeling his chest ache at the familiar smell of motor oil and aftershave that fills his senses.

  
His body shivers from the cool air blowing around the room, his feet squishing in a puddle as he brings his aching legs up against his chest. Hugging himself tight, Peter closes his eyes and tries to pretend that it is his father holding him close and running a soothing hand against his hair, muttering soft words of comfort and kissing the top of his head.

  
That he is _safe_.

  
Still crying, Peter starts to drift off, the panic and pain becoming too much for his body and mind. Clinging tightly to the mental image of his dad still flowing through his thoughts, the young Stark feels his body relax, the tears flowing from his eyes becoming a light stream instead of a raging river. Breathe still coming in soft gasps, Peter listens to the sound of the water hitting the floor as his vision begins to fade, his daddy's face still filling his mind.

  
A few seconds later, the sound of a footsteps and the loud banging of a steel door opening has him jerking awake.


	2. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter meets his captor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you so much for the comments/bookmarks/kudos!:) They make me so happy and totally motivate me to write even faster!
> 
> Dedicated to Alana! I hope you enjoy Chapter 2!:)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

* * *

 

Peter wearily lifts his burning eyes, but keeps his body completely still, all of his aching muscles tensing as the sound of his captor's steps get closer and closer. The tears that were falling just moments before come to a forced stop, Peter schooling his features into a look of practiced calm even as his heart tries to beat out of his chest. The image of his father is still at the forefront of his mind, and the teenager pushes it back with an intense feeling of regret and longing, his fingers aching as he clenches them against his sides.

  
A blurred movement on his left side has him involuntary flinching, the chains rattling as he tries to push weakly away from the rough hands that grab him. A sharp sting in his neck, right on his pressure point, causes his already weak arms to fall even more limp, his weight resting fully against the wall. The stone digs into his biceps, creating a casting of every bump and divot on the raw skin of his arms. His head falls forward, his chin getting pushed against the soft fabric of his black shirt as all of the blood rushes toward his skull, the sensation clogged and making his nose gush more blood.

  
The same rough hands cup his chin, the blood that was dripping onto the floor getting caught in the man's deep calluses. His dirty and broken nails dig into the teen's jaw line, and Peter tries in vail to jerk his head out of the painful grip. His face is pulled roughly upwards, his neck making a sharp popping sound as the bones are yanked suddenly.

  
"You're awake." Is all the man says, his smile filled with sharp angles and hazel eyes glazed over with poorly-hidden madness.

  
_Yeah, and you're a lunatic._ Peter wants to say, but the hand around his mouth tightens, his cheeks pushing together and the dried blood on his lips cracking.

  
The teen glares at the man, his watering eyes narrowing in hatred and fear as his body lets out a betraying shiver. The man just smirks once more, letting go of the young Stark's face after a few breathless seconds, reaching up with his other hand to itch at his stubby nose. The teenage sucks in a lungful of air once he is released, trying not to gag as the man's smoke and alcohol coated scent fills his nose, clumsily trying to lean his tired body as far away as he can.

  
His captor takes a step back, his ripped jeans and faded _REM_ shirt blocking out the limited light of the lamp overhead. With his face cast in shadow, the man's widened eyes glow in the newly formed pocket of darkness. Peter shrinks back when the man looks him up and down, giving a shudder.

  
"This is perfect." Giving a tiny giggle filled with glee, the man claps his hands together once with a quick snap. "This is absolutely _brilliant_."

  
The spiderling jumps at the sharp sound, his eyes squeezing shut on instinct. Quickly blinking them open once more, Peter lets out a small cry of alarm when his gaze focuses on the suddenly close up view he has of his captor's oily face.

  
Brushing his long red hair from his face, the man looks down sternly at the teen chained below him, his tone taking on the same quality Tony uses when Peter disobeys him. But this lunatic is nothing like his Dad, and the teenager swallows down the bile sliding up the back of his burning throat.

  
"Ah nope nope nope!" Reaching down quickly, the dark eyed man wraps his hands around Peter's forehead, forcing the boy's eyelids open with his thumbs. "Keep those eyes open, Pete!"

  
Letting out a shriek, Peter reaches up with shaking hands to pull at the fingers currently digging into his eye-balls. The man just leers at his struggle, tightening his grip before he lets go, turning abruptly around and walking to the far table. Giving a sob, Peter can feel the bruises on his face already beginning to form, tucking his knees closer to his chest as he watches the man rummage around, his back to his captive.

  
" _Why_ -" The teen's voice cracks, and he rubs his aching neck with a trembling hand, keeping his eyes open and weary. "Why a-are you do-doing this? Who ar-are you?"

  
The man spins around on his heel, worn out sneakers squeaking on the wet floor as he raises his hands in a wild gesture of exaggerated excitement. His hazel eyes are locked onto the teenager laying on the floor, the dark orbs lighting up in half anger, half optimism.

  
"Why am I _doing_ this?" Walking rapidly over, the man leans down so that his face is inches from the terrified Stark's, spitting the words out as though they were poison. "You know why I am doing this, _Spider-Man!_ "

  
Peter feels all the blood drain from his face as he looks up at the man with wide eyes. The teen opens and closes his mouth, trying to come up with a quick excuse as his tormentor smirks.

  
"I-I don't-"

  
But that is as far as he gets. Quick as lightning, the ginger raises his hand, punching Peter right across his face. The teen lets out a cry, his head smacking against the stone wall with a hollow thump, his already broken nose getting even more busted up as the man leans down. With blurry eyes, Peter watches as his captor snarls in his face, spit flying and landing on the spiderling's red and bruised cheek.

  
" _Don't lie to me!_ " The man yells, reaching with tense hands to grab the stunned boy's head, forcing it up again as Peter makes a noise of protest.

  
Taking a deep breathe, the man releases Peter with a grunt of disgust, standing up to his full height and towering over the shivering Stark. Forcing a smile of his face, the man gives a small hysterical giggle as Peter tries to fight the ringing in his ears, his whole head feeling stuffed with cotton.

  
"Now, are you going to be a good boy, Petey?" When he doesn't get an answer, the man jerks out his leg, his shoe making contact with the teenager's rib cage. "Are you not going to _lie_ to me?"

  
" _Yes_!" Peter wheezes out, resisting the urge to curl his body around his throbbing side, his tear filled eyes staying locked on the man as he nods.

  
Giving a satisfied huff, the madman turns back around, the light from the swaying lamp creating a terrifying version of a halo around his dirty red hair. He fiddles around on the table, the sound of metal hitting metal causing the teenager to flinch every few seconds, his watering eyes never once leaving his captor's tall form. They are both silent for a few seconds, the only sound being Peter's labored breathes, and the ever constant dripping of water.

  
Looking at the man's fidgeting form once more, the spiderling closes his eyes for just a second, his throbbing head falling back against the wall. He lets out a tiny whimper as the hard concrete makes contact with his injuries, feeling more tears fills his red rimmed eyes as he lets his thoughts wander to his Dad.

  
He wishes the man were here, he wishes it so much that it physically aches, the pain blooming in his chest rivaling that of his head. Peter silently whines when his captor causes a loud bang, something heavy dropping on the floor and rolling under the table. With a curse, the man reaches down to grab it, looking back at his prisoner just as the teenager forces his sticky eyes open once more, sniffling to try and stop the tears from overflowing.

  
"My name is Jason." The man suddenly says, getting out a screwdriver and leaning over more fully against the edge of the table.

  
It takes Peter's pain filled brain a few seconds to process what he just heard, but he must have made some noice of confirmation because the man-Jason- doesn't even look up from the case he is opening. His movements are erratic and so unlike Peter's father that the boy can't even look at him, not wanting the image of his Dad's gift to be tainted by this bastard.

 

"I worked for Toomes, was one of the lower mechanics in charge of making smaller weapons, knives and hand pistols and such." Jason continues nonchalantly, briefly flicking his hazel eyes over to Peter. "Life was going great. My family respected me and money was rolling in like the surf."

  
He suddenly slams the tool on the table, the metal ringing from the force. Jason, his shoulders heaving as he turns around to glare at Peter, raggedly runs one trembling hand through his greasy hair. The teenager watches him with wide eyes, trying to fight the terror he knows is showing on his bruised face, bringing his weak arms to cover his face when the man points with a long finger to his shaking body.

  
"But you- _you_ took all of that from me! With the Vulture behind bars and our whole operation exposed, it was only a matter of time before my _perfect_ life was ruined." Snarling, the red head tries in vain to control his anger, snorting through his nose like an angry bull, tightening his shoulders as he turns back toward the table. "All of my money was gone, my wife left me and took our daughter. I-I haven't seen them for months. . ."

  
Jason seems to loose his steam for a few moments, lowering his head and grabbing something from the top of the table. Peter feels his veins turn to ice, his heart hammering through his chest as his breathe starts to come faster. Clenching his fists, the teen ignores the pain of the iron cutting into his palms as Jason starts to set up a small yellow video recorder. The brightness of the camera is vivid in the bleak interior, and Peter grits his teeth as his panic rises.

  
"So I thought-," Jason continues quietly as he fiddles with the black stand, adjusting the length of the legs. "-about how I need money. So maybe my wife and daughter will come back. And I came to a realization!"

  
He pauses with one hand held up, looking expectingly at the chained up Stark on the floor, his eyes lit up in a haunted version of childish delight. Peter just glares at him, shifting on the wet floor as he shivers.

  
"Who has more money then he deserves?" The man asks, snorting in mirth when Peter gives a shudder, eyeing him like a piece of meat. "Tony Stark."

  
The teenager freezes when he hears his father's name, feeling a whimper build up in his mouth as he thinks of the man. The longing he feels comes back full force and he can't stop the few stray tears that leak out of his soulful brown eyes, the cuffs on his wrists clanking together when he reaches up to wipe them away. Jason doesn't seem to notice the boy's distress, to focused on explaining his plan to realize the effects of his words.

  
"I figure he could give me-" He raises a hand and tilts it side to side, "-around a few million for a good incentive."

  
Peter licks his lips, the dried blood that fills him mouth almost rivaling the taste of the bile that slides up his closed-off throat. He tries to fight the fear that courses through his tired body, resisting the urge to shut his eyes against the realization that is thrust upon him by the madman's next words.

  
"And what better incentive then saving the life of his little boy?"

  
Smiling widely, Jason clicks the video camera on, the black lens facing Peter and showing him a warped version of his broken reflection. A betraying sob falls from his lips as the red light flickers, knowing that this is going to break his father, and having no way to stop it.

  
Giving one last giggle before composing himself, Jason steps forward, holding a knife out in front of him. The sharp metal reflects the bulb overhead, the light bouncing across the room and landing on the far wall. Peter tries to scoot back, his sneakers squeaking on a nearby puddle, tears finally breaking free and carving out rivers on his red and dirty face.

  
"Alright, _Spider-Man_." Jason sneers, voice cruel and sarcastic. "Lets see how loud you can scream."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!:D Don't forget to comment!


	3. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony figures out that Peter has been taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovely readers! Sorry for the slight delay on this, school sucks and I've had a lot of homework this past few days. By I finally got this Chapter out! Thank you for your continued support and love for this story! It makes my day to hear what you think and I hope you enjoy Chapter 3. :)
> 
> Dedicated to Alana. Enjoy Chapter 3! ❤️
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

* * *

 

_If I have to go to another meeting, I'm going to scream._

  
Throwing his shoes off and undoing his thin tie, Tony runs a hand through his carefully styled hair, causing the ends to stick up every which way. He plops on the couch with a muffled thump, his back hitting against something hard and causing him to let out a curse. Sitting up, the genius shifts to the side of the dark leather sofa, the fabric squeaking as it rubs against his pressed black dress pants.

  
Reaching behind him, Tony wraps his fingers around the glossy cover of a textbook, bringing it into his lap and flipping through the pages idly. Post-It Notes, most being an obnoxiously bright pink, are placed in seemingly random places throughout the book, Peter's surprisingly neat handwriting scrawled on each one.

  
**Memorize For Test Tuesday** one says, the paper crinkled from being pressed against the side of the couch. Tony smooths it out with a fond smile, shaking his head as he thinks of his son and his bright personality and mind. God, he loves his kid. Setting the textbook aside, he heaves himself off the couch with a small groan of discomfort as the movement stretches his sore back. Raising his arms over his head, he stretches as he makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a coffee cup on the way.

  
The sound of his phone ringing has him flinching in alarm, almost spilling the coffee he was poring into his #1 DAD mug (a gift from Peter last Father's Day) all over his white shirt. Reaching into his front pants pocket, Tony pulls his phone out and frowns at the number flashing across the lit screen, setting his now full cup down on the counter with a small thud.

  
"Tony Stark." He answers, raising the phone to his ear and trying to ignore the anxiety he can feel clenching at his gut.

  
" _Good afternoon,_ _Mr. Stark._ " A female voice says, her tone nasally and crackling on the speaker. " _This is Debbie Welling, Security at Midtown High School. Your son, Peter Stark, was not present for his First and Second Bell today. Do you know of any reason for this?"_

  
Tony sucks in a quick breath, feeling his heart clench in panic as he silently orders Friday to check all security footage from the school. Clenching his fists, the genius lies through his teeth, telling the women that Peter was currently home with the flu and will hopefully be back at school in a few days. _No sense in creating panic. At least not yet._

  
"Besides," he adds with false cheerfulness, letting some of the charm he has gotten so good at faking slip into his voice, "Thanksgiving Break is going to start soon and I don't think missing a few extra days will be an issue."

  
The Security monitor hums absentmindedly, the sound of quick typing and the ruffling of paper slipping through the phone. Tony would normally be pulling his phone away in annoyance but right now he is struggling to keep his protective panic in check.

  
The lady says something to him, something about making sure to contact the school no matter the time of year, but Tony is barely listening. He suddenly hangs up, cutting the security monitor off short and grips his cup with shaking hands. He leans down, resting his head against the rim of the steaming mug and attempts to control his raging emotions as he tries to come up with excuses for Peter's absence.

  
" _Boss, I have the requested security footage ready for viewing when you are ready."_ Friday's voice interrupts his frantic thoughts, and Tony wearily lifts his head, the outline of the cup's rim a red line across his furrowed brows.

  
"Thank you, Fri." The brunette says, walking over to the elevator and stepping into the open doors.

  
The room moves without him even having to request the floor, Friday seeming to understand the tense atmosphere of the situation and choosing not to waste time asking questions. As he rises, Tony shifts from foot to foot, his worry and agitation making him feel both useless and restless.

  
_He is fine._ The superhero tries to reassure himself, hands curling into a fist and getting stuffed into his pants pockets. _You're just being overprotective. Peter is smart, he knows how to take care of himself._

  
That doesn't stops his worrying, however, and Tony can feel his parental instincts fighting to the surface as the elevator finally comes to a gentle stop on the second to top floor of the tower. The door open in a whoosh, and the mid-day sun shines through the windows lining the hallways, the New York City skyline glowing in the light. But the genius doesn't stop to admire the view, and the entryways open without prompting from the worried man as he practically runs down the hallway.

  
Walking into his lab, Tony ignores Dummy as he whirls over, clicking impatiently when his creator doesn't stop to give him a welcoming pat. Butterfingers and You stay wisely back, both curling up at the far end of the room as they watch the genius walk briskly over to the screens located on the far wall.

  
"Alright, Friday. Pull up the footage please." He commands, absentmindedly reaching up to rub at his Arc Reactor, the blue light glowing through his thin dress shirt and offering little comfort.

  
The black screens in front of his suddenly fill up with footage from Midtown High School, the recordings slightly staticky and blurred in some shots. Teenagers race from one end of the crowded hallways to the next, laughing obnoxiously and pushing against one and other as their book bags are jostled around. Tony scans the crowd diligently, his wide eyes flying from one teen to the next, feeling his disappointment and worry rise with each unfamiliar face.

  
He goes through the whole school, looking for the familiar mop of brown hair and shinning smile. But Peter is no where to be seen, the only indication that he is even missing is the one moment when Ned hesitates beside a locker, his phone held up to his face and a frown marking his round features. The bell rings a couple of seconds later and the boy looks once at the closed locker beside him, before walking into an open classroom door a few feet away.

  
"Friday, run facial recognition for Pete-" Tony begins, but the hallway empties after a few seconds, and no one enters or leaves the school for a long while after that.

  
Tony growls, stepping a few paces back and begins to pace, his arms crossed and fingers clenched. His mind is in torment, the thought that his child is no where to be found and possibly hurt making his blood boil and his heart race.

  
He remembers hugging Peter goodbye earlier that morning, his son telling him he loves him one last time before he is out the door and racing toward his bus. Tony had yelled out a "I love you too!" before the boy had been fully out the door, but Peter had not heard him and had kept on running, not even looking back.

  
Tony had tried to shake the feeling of dread that had accompanied him from that small moment all day.

  
Now, however, the elder Stark runs his hands through his hair, tugging on the strands as he continues to walk back and forth, his shoes tapping against the floor. Stopping for just a second, Tony reaches over and grabs his Stark Pad from his shelf, fingers flying over the keyboard as he begins to hack into every security camera around the Tower.

  
He _is_ going to find his child.

  
After a few taps of his shaking fingers, the genius finds the video he is looking for, throwing his hand out to the side and making the bigger screen to his left show the slightly blurry image.

  
It is from a dress shop a few blocks away, the store dark and reflecting the passing people and cars as they move busily through the city to work and school. Peter was walking to the side of the screen, his book bag swinging high on one bony shoulder and his doe eyes flickering left and right. Tony ignores the feeling of love that blooms in his heart at the sight of his son, instead focusing on the people around the teen as he walks. But nothing suspicious happens and the inventor feels a jab of disappointment and helplessness.

  
But then he sees it.

  
A man, his head covered by a dark hoodie, walks a little behind Peter. His hair is dark red and long, blowing slightly in the wind. Tony snarls as he watches the creepy dude following his child, clenching his fists and straightening his posture in anger. He camera angle suddenly switches, the long walkway of an abandoned ally looming in the shadow of the neighboring building. The genius frowns further, a growl of frustration getting stuck in his throat as he watches Peter turn into the ally, his headphones shoved in his ears and his head bobbing to the music.

  
But the young Stark freezes suddenly, reaching up and pulling the white wires from his ears and lifting his head to look behind him. But he never fully turns, and the man that was following behind him suddenly grabs him, a thin needle getting shoved into his neck. Tony gives a shout of fury and fear, the sound making his Bots jump at the sudden noise, whirling in alarm.

  
A white van, the licenses plate hidden, pulls up behind the now limp form of his child being dragged by the red haired bastard. Then the screen goes black.

  
"Friday, what the fuck!" Tony shouts, jabbing furiously at the tablet in his hands, trying in vain to find out just where they took his baby.

  
" _I'm sorry Sir, it appears that that is all of the footage available of Peter since 7:46 a.m this morning."_ The A.I sounds apologetic, but that does nothing to quench the fire now burning through the genius's body.

  
Holding back a sob of self-pity and distress, Tony tries again and again to find an video- _any video_ \- of his son that he can use to locate him. He tries local grocery stores and clothing stores. He tries the camera inside of Peter's school bus, and the video feed from a traffic light. He even tries using a camera from a pedestrian's Stark phone, Peter's own phone not responding to any of the father's anxious and desperate calls and texts, his tracker having stopped working once the phone is out of battery. _Or smashed._

  
But all come back empty and blank of information.

  
With a cry that leaves his voice cracking, Tony heaves a nearby wrench over his head and into the steel unforced wall beside him. The tool hits the metal with a sharp ringing sound, before pinging back and hitting the genius in the leg. But the enraged father doesn't even notice the pain, the tears that he was trying to hold back slipping past his now red face as he gasps in a mixture of anger and despair.

  
Walking briskly over to the stand holding his Iron Man suit, Tony starts to assemble the armor, the red and gold casing starting to fold like a second skin around his body.

_  
"Sir, you have just received an Email from an unknown source."_

  
"Ignore it." The brunette says, voice hard and eyes burning a fire as hot as his repulsers.

  
He begins to make his way over to the open flight deck, the pounding of his heart echoing in his ears and pushing against the Arc Reactor with each step. He growls almost silently, gritting his teeth as he begins the long night of searching he knows will be the only thing keeping him from completely loosing it. Lowering his face guard, the genius almost misses Friday's voice when it comes through the speakers.

_  
"Peter's face is triggering my Facial Recognition System. Would you like me to move this Email to the larger screen for viewing?"_

  
Tony freezes almost halfway out the door, the sun hitting his face and blinding him slightly as he lifts his mask, his bloodshot eyes widening and breathe coming in quick bursts.

  
" _Yes!_ Yes, holy fuck Friday! Play the video!" He says, the sound of metal against metal loud as he runs over to the still blank screen.

  
The Iron Man armor is rough against his legs as he comes to a stop. Letting out a frustrated huff, the engineer practically rips off his suit, his hands turning red and raw as he tugs at the metal. His curses are lost in the whirl of machinery.

  
The suit opens just as the hologram lights up, the sound of dripping water and labored breathe filling up the lab and making Tony let out a cross between a sob and a snarl, fighting against the instinct to reach his now free hand out and touch the horrifying picture being imprinted in him mind.

  
Because staring at him, his beautiful brown eyes clouded in pain and confusion, blood and bruises all over his face and his wrists chained to a dirty wall, is Peter.

  
Tony feels his heart shatter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to try to get Chapter 4 done by the end of the week. Thanks for reading and don't forget to comment!:)


	4. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony watches the video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!:) Thanks for the bookmarks/kudos/reviews! They make my day!:) I hope you enjoy Chapter 4.
> 
> Dedicated to Alana. Enjoy!❤️
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING FOR DESCRIPTIONS OF TOTURE!!!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

* * *

 

Even though Tony knows that this is just a recording and not happening in real time, he cannot help the instinctual feeling of outrage and pure fural _anger_ he feels at the sight of his child being hurt. He finally gives in to the urge to rest his hand against the screen, his fingers stretched wide and cups his son's trembling chin, wishing more than anything that he could wipe away the tears spilling down his bruised cheeks.

  
The teens lets out a sob through the speakers, almost as though he can feel his father's comforting touch, the sound wet and crackling. Tony growls as the huge chest of a man blocks Peter from his view, almost taking a step back in alarm before remembering that this is just a recording.

  
The man scoots back, his hair frizzled and face red. He reaches up, the sharp edge of a knife sliding carelessly across his oily cheek as he itches his nose, his other hand gesturing behind him at Peter. Tony can barely see his child behind the man, but he can tell that the teenager flinches at the exaggerated movement made toward him, his whimper of alarm barely audible among his captor's raspy breathing.

  
Tony feels his blood boil, his free hand clenching so tightly against his still throbbing leg that his knuckles crack. He narrows his eyes, glaring at the screen with so much unflinching hatred that the Arc Reactor seems to glow an even brighter blue then normal, the light reflecting off the screen right in the middle of the man's forehead. Tony wishes he could fire his repulsers at the convenient target now decorating the red-head's face.

  
Then the man begins to speak.

  
" _Hello Stark. My name is Jason."_ As he talks, he walks backwards slowly, the knife held up and out like a gun, the blade sharp and pointed right at Peter's defenseless form chained on the ground. _"I'm glad to see that the little movie I am making you got through."_

  
Tony listens to the man's gravely and half mad voice coming through the speakers with barely controlled disgust, watching with wide and flickering eyes as the monster gets closer and closer to his child, the knife still on full display.

_  
"I do have to warn you through, it's not a film you want to take the kiddos to see. It's quite. . . brutal."_

  
Finally reaching Peter's side, Jason reaches down and grabs the teenager by his chin, pulling his face up like he has done it a thousand times. Peter lets out a cry of pain, his hands reaching up to pull at the man's fingers, brown eyes wide and locked onto his Dad's through the screen. Tony grips the table top, feeling his chest ache at the look of pain that flashes across his baby's face.

  
The man pushes Peter down after a few seconds, the knife twisting down suddenly and cutting a long gash through the teen's black shirt, right above his collar bone, the material turning a darker shade as the young Stark gasps. His face turns red, eyes spilling a few stray tears as he seems to fight for control. Tony snarls, feeling his lips curl as Jason's face splits into a broken grin, his beefy hands rubbing together as he looks down at his prisoner.

  
" _Now that I know that I have your attention, Iron Man, I need you to do me a favor._ " The man looks at the camera, his beady eyes finding the genius's as he lifts one hand, the other gripping the knife more securely before he turns around. He walks back over the the center of the room, his steps measured and slow. _"I am in desperate need of some money, a lot of money. And what do you have?"_

  
At the condescending tone, Tony grits his teeth, resisting the urge to spit on the screen as the man comes to a stop, his large frame blocking the rest of the room (as well as Peter) behind him. Jason pauses in his speech, as through waiting for an answer he knows will never come. Finally he answers his own question, his tongue darting out to wet his dry and cracked lips.

_  
"Well, it seems to me, Stark, that you have a lot more money then one man knows what to do with. But lucky for you, I have a few ideas."_

  
Peter must have made some sort of noise, a cry that he couldn't keep held in, because suddenly the man was turning around again. Tony gives a shout of anger and fear as his child comes into view once more, his face deadly pale and side starting to bleed more profusely. With a lunge, the ginger smacks the unsuspecting boy across the face, the sound sharp and popping. Breathing hard, Tony shivers in pure fury as his child hits the wall behind him with a thud, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he moans in pain.

  
But as quick as a snake, the glistening brown orbs are forced back open, panic settling deep in the depths and making his pupils blow wide. He shivers once, his lips trembling as he sucks in lung full after lung full of air, raising his weak looking arms in a desperate attempt at self defense. His captor just gives a nod as though satisfied, looking back once over his shoulder in the direction of the camera. His smirk is easily detectable when he speaks.

_  
"I've trained him quite well, as you can see."_

  
Tony has never wanted to _kill_ someone more in his whole life. His whole body shakes in the intensity of it, muscles tightening as he growls. His vision is bathed in red, the fire burning hot through his very soul.

  
Jason lifts Peter's onto his feet, pulling the teenage against his chest and wrapping his large arms around the boy's smaller frame. Peter's chains rattle as he slowly stands, the sound staticky as it plays on the speakers. The teenager lets out a small wail at the movement, his hair falling to cover his bloodshot eyes as he lowers his head in shame.

  
Tony feels his heart break even more. _No, Peter. This isn't your fault sweetheart. Please don't give up. **Please**._

  
The father doesn't begin to resister the fact that he began to repeat the small speech out loud, his whole focus on the horror filled images being played in front of him. Tugging again at his hair, the inventor tries to use the pain of the action to ground him against his raging instincts.

  
Pushing Peter's busted up face more forcefully against his chest, Jason smiles ruthlessly at the horrified superhero, his eyes shining against the backdrop of a nearby lantern. His shadow crawls along the dirty wall behind him, the blackness seeming to engulf the whole room in a sick layer of pain and filth. It was the sign of something terribly evil, and the monster soaks in it like a toddler in a bubble bath.

  
" _Tell Daddy how much you miss him, Petey_." The man coos, brushing the boy's hair away from his face with the pointed blade, the teenager making a choking sound as it comes within mere centimeters of his tear filled eyes. " _Tell him about how much it hurts, and how you just want him to save you and take you home. Go on, cry like the little boy you are and tell Stark how you really feel."_

  
Peter gaps, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, hands subconsciously reaching up and out toward his father in the universal gesture of 'hold me.' Tony instinctively reaches his arms out as well, knowing that he would trade everything in his Tower for the chance to hold his little boy close again. The teen sobs, curling his fingers in a grabbing motion even as his next gasping words contradict the underlaying meaning of the motion.

_  
"No! No Dad! You c-can't do this! Don't give him what he wants! Please Daddy!"_

  
The man's smug face falls, and he rips the sobbing boy off of his chest, pulling him up by his hair and spitting in his face. Peter just continues to spill pleads for his father not to give the man the money, his voice cracking and his body shivering as he betrays his real needs for the sake of Tony's reputation. The Billionaire nearly screams in mental agony at the sounds, giving up on keeping his face dry and spilling his own tears down his cheeks. Even as he cries, his anger still simmers below the surface, coiling up inside of his chest like a spring ready to be unleashed.

  
" _You_ _stupid_ _boy_!" The man screams, throwing Peter to the ground and bringing his heal back against the spiderling's stomach. The younger Stark groans in pain, curling up on his uninjured side to protect himself as best he can. " _You_ _ignorant_ _piece_ _of_ _shit_!"

  
After a few more kicks, Jason seems to grow tired, his breathing heavy and irregular as he walks briskly over to stand in front of the camera again. His face is blank of all emotion, his tone flat and eyes glazed in madness.

_  
"10 Million Dollars. If I don't get that amount, your precious son gets every bone in his hand broken individually, starting with all of his fingers. You have one hour. After the hour is up, you are going to receive another Email like this one, only it will not be as pleasant. When you have the money, call the number located on the bottom of the message, and we will schedule a meeting to trade our portions. Any call made that is not in relation to the cash will result in the immediate and recorded death of Peter. Good luck."_

  
The last thing Tony hears before the screen goes black is Peter's high pitched shriek of agony and Jason's lips curling into a broken smile.

  
The genius breathes heavily, his whole chest tight like he has just run a marathon. A internal monologue of _**oh**_ **_god_** **_oh_** **_god_** **_oh_** **_god_** **_please_** **_no_** **_please_** **_please_** **_no_** **_not_** **_Peter_** **_please_** **_not_** **_my_** **_baby_** **_oh_** **_god_** **_please_** circles through his brain, his legs turning weak and ears ringing. Resting his head against his hands, Tony lets himself fall apart, his broken sobs filling up the lab and echoing through the room.

 

But once he has cried for a few gut wrenching seconds, letting all of his own emotions out with a great scream, does the Billionaire lift his head. Wiping away the last of his tears, Tony pulls himself together, gathering the anger he feels pooling in his stomach and chest and creating a fury mask over his face. His eyes blazing and breathe panting, the father immediately starts pulling up all the information he can find on abandoned wear-houses in New York.

  
His adrenaline is pumping through his veins, beating along with the frantic pulsing of his heart, and the inventor knows that he is going to have a long hour ahead of him.

  
He has a lot of work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!:D


	5. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter does some intense shit and gets into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers!:) I'm sorry this took so long to write, RL got in the way and I've just been really busy. Thank you for your continued support, it really REALLY means a whole lot! <3
> 
> Dedicated to Alana. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

* * *

Jason leaves almost as soon as the camera shuts off with a soft click.

  
Peter watches him with eyes squinted in pain as he sets the bloody knife back on the table, the metal ringing and causing the teenager to flinch at the sound. Drawing in a quivering breathe, the spiderling grits his teeth against the burn as he brings his legs back up against his chest, trying his hardest to make each movement as small as he can as to not attract the unwanted attention of the mad-man.

  
But Jason pays him no mind, humming a soft tune under his breath as though he was not torturing a poor 15 year old just moments before, looking over a slightly crinkled piece of paper before stuffing it into his pocket and straightening up with a small grunt. Peter shivers when his cold hazel gaze meets his bloodshot eyes, ducking his head in a submission gesture as his ribs throb in agony.

  
Jason's footsteps echoes around the damp cell as he steps closer, his shoes tapping against the dirty floor. His breathe is a ghost against Peter's ear when he leans down, his oily red hair falling into the still crying teen's face and filling his nose up with the man's disgusting scent. The younger Stark tries to pull away with a hiss, but his tormenter grabs his arm and pulls him closer.

  
"You are doing so well, Pete." The man says, using his other hand to cup the flinching boy's cheek, his nails chipped and digging into the bruised flesh. "Such a good boy for me."

  
Peter gives a whimper, shaking his head out of Jason's iron grip, his eyes darting from the knife still on the table to his kidnapper's crazed smile of pleasure. The blood dripping from his head and his side splats softly on the ground, and both present follow the slow movement with variating expressions passing over their faces. Lifting his hand from Peter's shoulder, Jason lets a drop of the red liquid slide onto his finger, the teenager watching with wide eyes as he brings the digit up to his nose, inhaling the rusty scent with a sigh of bliss.

  
"So _fucking good._ "

  
Sticking the blood coated finger into his mouth, the man licks the red fluid off with a quick motion of his tongue, his eyes closing as he straightens up. Peter shakes in fear and pain, the ever consuming need for his father flaring full force in his chest, his heart constricting and lungs stalling as the raging lunatic above him continues to suck on his finger like a freaking vampire. _Eww_.

  
Jason seems to snap out of his apparent bloodlust quickly, his finger getting pulled sharply out of his mouth with a pop. A string of red tinged spit coats the wet digit, and the madman whips it off carelessly on the front of his black shirt. His cheeks redden as though embarrassed to be caught doing such an act, and he grips Peter's head once more, eyes hard and brows set in a firm line.

  
He doesn't say anything, just continues to glare down at the pain ridden boy below him, his crooked teeth speckled with crimson and lips pale white and dry. His breathe smells of rust and death when it gets blown in Peter's direction and the teenager grimaces, his nose wrinkling involuntarily and causing a flash of pain so strong his vision turns white.

  
Letting out a gasp, Peter rests his head against the wall with a soft thump, his ears ringing and body throbbing. Tears slip from his eyes, the blood on his cheeks mixing with the salty liquid and sliding down to the floor. Fighting against the pain pulsing through his small body, the teenager cracks his eyes open, watching as Jason begins to walk toward the closed door on the far side of the room. The man stalls once he gets to the doorway, his meaty hands unlocking the steel frame with quick, jerky movements, but once he has the metal swinging open does he turn around once again. The swaying light above them casts a ring of dark shadows across the lunatic's face, and his smile is glowing a pale red and white when he speaks.

  
"One hour, little boy." He says, holding up one finger, his skin still smeared with Peter's blood and his own spit. "One more hour, and then I will be back to _play_ again. Send Daddy another nice video for his collection and consideration. Might even convince him to give me a little more cash for my hospitality."

  
Narrowing his eyes in hatred, Peter sucks in a whistling gasp, opening his aching jaw to spit back a report, body shuddering and goosebumps rising along his limp arms.

  
"Fuck-" He starts to snarl, lips curling even as his side spills more blood, the red glowing slightly in the limited light.

  
But Jason is already gone, the door banging shut and causing the walls and table to rattle, the blank lens of the video recorder shuttering on it's thin, black legs.

  
"-you!" Peter finishes, feeling foolish as the anger in the word is sucked out, the man not even in the room to hear it.

  
Blinking his doe eyes rapidly, Peter begins to inspect the gash in his side, pushing his ripped t-shirt aside and pressing one shaking hand against the stinging wound to try and stop the dripping of blood. His heading throbbing in time with the beating of his heart, and his stomach churns with a mixture of guilt and longing.

  
_His Dad is probably freaking out now_.

  
Sniffling, the teen tries in vain to relax his tired body, his mind in a turmoil and thoughts swirling as he unwillingly begins to think about the mental agony his father is going through right now because of him, not to mention the insane amount of money that the bastard is asking for. His Dad's heart can't take this, and it just isn't _fair_.

  
Reaching down, the teenager rest his warm forehead against the dusty and ripped knees of his jeans, the tears that flowed from his eyes falling in a more rapid succession as gravity begins for force them down.

  
No matter how guilty the teen feels, he cannot stop the intense feeling of relief that flows through his veins, because his Dad knows that he is missing now, that he was taken and will find him, and _save him and hold him and Goddamn it he is terrified and he just wants his Daddy._

  
Giving a groan of pain, Peter shifts on the hard floor, almost missing the sharp object that suddenly pokes against his thigh as he gets absorbed in his self depressing thoughts. Reaching into the left pocket of his jeans, the young Stark feels his hope soar when his aching fingers close around a small, rectangular object, the bumps marking the plastic getting caught in the fabric of his pants as he tries to pull it out. The chains encircling his wrists jingle, the length of the metal almost too short to enable him to maneuver as he finally rips the unknown object from his pocket with a gasp, the drugs still in his system leaving his breathless.

  
Holding the plastic out in triumph, the teen studies the object in the pale light, turning it around in his fingers to look at it from all angles.

  
A Lego.

  
The piece is white, glowing as it gets observed by a tired gaze. A piece of blue pocket lint is stuck to it, and the young Stark pulls the small blue string off with quivering fingers. The plastic is thin, flat one one side with raised bumps on the other, the material shaking as Peter's body racks with a tremor.

  
It must be a leftover piece from the newest Death Star him and Ned were working on, the object small enough to not raise alarms when his kidnapper picked him up.

  
But it was the perfect size for a makeshift lock pick.

  
Gripping the plastic tighter, the spiderling looks with a quick glance at the still closed door, his ears intensely focused on any sounds of approaching footfalls. He listens for about 10 seconds, making sure that Jason would not suddenly appear, before gripping one handcuff and pulling that hand close. The chains clanks together, the sound metallic and sharp, reminding the boy of his younger days of watching his Father work in the lab. Shaking his head slightly, Peter snaps himself out of it before he gets lost in the memories of safety that encompasses his Dad.

  
Gritting his teeth, Peter forces the thin plastic into the small key hole on one side of the cuff, twisting the Lego right and left in an attempt to pick the metal lock. As he tightly turns the white object, his injuries flare up full force and the spiderling lets out an involuntary whine of pain, tears stinging his eyes as he shivers in the cold. Twisting left once more, the lock suddenly snaps open with a soft click, the iron falling from the raw skin of his wrist and landing lightly in his lap.

  
Peter just gasps for a few seconds, staring wide eyed at the innocent looking metal cuff sitting on his leg. Flexing his fingers, the teenager lifts his still trapped hand to rub at the red and scraped skin on his wrist, hissing in pain at the sting the motion causes. Huffing out a small laugh of triumph, he quick jabs the Lego into the other lock, twisting it just like the other one. It pops open, the plastic almost snapping with the force of the latch. Pulling the offending metal from around his other arm, Peter twists both of his wrists, feeling the bones pop as they are finally given freedom to move.

  
His Dad would be so proud of him if he were here.

  
Smirking, the young Stark pulls himself to his feet, ignoring the agony that flares throughout his whole body as he stretches, his eyes darting to the knife still sitting on the table a few feet away. Feeling a jab of regret that his web-shooters are sitting in his drawer at home, Peter squares his shoulders, and gets ready to start moving.

  
Quickly stuffing the miraculous Lego away into his pocket once more, the teen shuffles slowly over to the table, his feet dragging in a puddle and causing him to stumble, moaning in pain as his ribs throb. His movements are still sluggish, as though he was drunk, his head seeming to be filled with cotton and his eyes blurring slightly as the edges.

  
Finally, after it feels like a million years has passed, Peter makes it over to the metal table, a small trail of blood dripping onto the floor behind him from his limp. The handle of the red tinged knife is warm in his raw palm as he picks it up, the light overhead reflecting off of the metal and bouncing behind him.

  
Reaching up to brush his sweat tinged hair from his damp forehead, the boy pulls the knife closer to his body, his large doe eyes taking in anything else that might be useful for attacking Jason and escaping this hell-hole, the urge to cuddle up to his Dad and forget the pain and terror he is feeling making his throat close up. Squeezing his eyes shut, Peter takes a deep breathe, his lungs pressing against his rib cage and making a hot flash of pain explode in his chest. Peter whimpers, swaying slightly but doesn't fall, reaching out with his free hand, his shaking fingers gripping the cool table top with white knuckles.

  
His eyes, however, are narrowed in concentration, and the teenage can feel the drug in his system still flowing through his body. His grip on the knife tightens, the metal only bending slightly as his super strength is getting washed away. Feeling frustrated rising in him, Peter starts to turn around, his body starting to sag in exhaustion and mental strain, his focus wavering slightly.

  
His breathe stops when he notices the body standing at the now open doorway, his spider senses going off in alarm as he staggers back, his hip hitting against the dull edge of the gray table. Damn it! The blood stained knife shoots out in front of him, his grip shaking as he gasps in panic, his shoulder dripping red and combining with the puddle under his foot.

  
"St-stay away f-from me!" Peter shouts, his voice cracking as he fights against the tears in his eyes, blinking rapidly. "Stay the fuck aw-away from m-me, you _sick_ monster!"

  
But Jason just giggles, stepping closer and smiling, his teeth still stained with Peter's blood and his eyes shining in hysterical madness.

  
"It hasn't even been an hour, Pete." The man says softly, voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I could leave you alone and you would continue to be a good boy."

  
Peter shudders in repulsion as the lunatic licks his lips, his tongue tinged crimson and hair falling to cover half of his pale face. His eyes suddenly turn hard, jaw tightening as the muscles in his arms tense up, veins popping out of the dirty skin and causing the man's face to flash red.

  
"But I was wrong! You need to be _punished_ , you need to be disciplined for being a little fucking piece of _shit_! I know that I promised Stark that he had an hour, but I think that this horrible behavior of yours needs to be addressed no-"

  
With a gurgled and cracking scream of terror and agony all rolled into one, Peter suddenly rushes at the man with all of his available strength, the knife held out and his face curling into an expression of pure desperation.

  
Jason doesn't even have time to flinch before the knife is buried handle deep in the meaty flesh of his calf. He goes down like the giant from Jack and the Bean Stalk, his bellowing cry of surprise and distress bouncing off the walks and ringing in Peter's sensitive ears. The teenager doesn't waste any time, limping as fast as his injuries will carry him and shoots through the open doorway.

  
The hallway beyond is just as dark as the cell he was imprisoned in, the same lamps lining the tall ceiling and swaying from the air conditioning. Gasping in terror, the spiderling runs and runs, listening with adrenaline pumping through his body as Jason starts to chase after him, the man calling his name in a haunting and deranged howl.

  
" _Oh Peter, where are you? Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter._ . . "

  
Letting out a sob, the teenager continues to sprint, ignoring the blood that begins to cloud his vision, and the agony that stalls his body. The hallway comes to a sudden turn and Peter lets out a sharp cry as he smacks his bad shoulder against the brick, the pain flashing white behind his eyes. Shaking his head, the teen shivers as Jason's footfalls start to slowly creep closer, his gate uneven and breathe ragged. The man is still shouting his name, and the sound is nearer, somewhere close behind him.

  
The turn in the hallway leads to a dead end, the handle of what was once a doorway poking through the concrete that is now covering it up. With a whimper, Peter tries in vain to rip the sealed shut door open, the brick beginning to loosen, but it doesn't give. Reaching up, the teen begins to pull at his dirty hair, the brown locks twisting in his aching fingers as he desperately searches for an exit. Finally he just gives up, slumping against the wall as he tries to get his breathe back for a second, wishing for the millionth time that day that his Daddy was there to save him.

 

A movement above him has him looking up. Peter notices a swinging light fixture about 10 feet in the air, the bulb dull and casting the ceiling behind it in a pocket of darkness. Gritting his teeth and wiping away his tears, the young Stark starts to climb the wall, his hand and feet sticking to the chipped brick. His heartbeat is loud in his ears, and he almost misses the loud continued screaming of Jason, his name and a few choice curse words now mixing into a pain and anger filled shout.

  
Arms and legs jerking from exhaustion, Peter makes it onto the lamp just as the man limps slowly into view, blood trickling from the knife still lodged into his leg, and his expression betraying a burning rage.

  
_Shit._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos make my day and comments fuel my writing ;)


	6. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets caught and Jason teaches him a lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful readers!:) Thank you soooo much for your support and amazing comments/kudos! You are the best thing a writer could ask for and I am so grateful for every single one of you! *hugs* I hope you enjoy Chapter 6 ;D
> 
> Dedicated to Alana ❤️
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

* * *

 

Peter holds his breathe, watching with a terrified gaze as Jason makes his way down the long hallway, the limited lighting flickering in time with the man's unsteady steps. His face is shifted in a snarl, the expression cracking his obnoxiously dry lips and coating his teeth in even more blood. The teenager gives a shiver when the lunatic stops directly under him, his oily red hair cascading like a horrific version of a waterfall down his back, the blood still sliding from his leg starting to create a small pool under his feet. The liquid gets caught in the white soles of his sneakers and stains the fabric a deep red. In his hands he hold a pair of simple handcuffs, the metal re-enforced with titanium steel and flashing as he swings them around like helicopter blades.

  
The man looks around, turning his neck so fast that it cracks, his hazel eyes flickering around the small walkway, frowning in confusion when he can't seem to locate his captive. Peter doesn't move, his feet starting to slide down the slick metal of the light, his sneakers making it impossible for his feet to get a firm grasp and he grips the handle with white knuckles.

  
A few seconds pass, the only sound being both his and Jason's ragged breathe. Then the lunatic huffs in apparent frustration, glancing around one more time before he slowly begins to make his way out, his leg still bleeding profusely and the grinding of his yellow teeth audible. He screams Peter's name once more, the sound echoing through the whole building.

  
As Jason takes a step, a small drop of blood starts to slide down Peter's arm, the sensation tickling the boy's skin and making him tremble. The shaking movement causes the light to squeak, and the teenager squeezes his eyes shut as his heart drops. The frustrating drop of blood splats softly on the ground near the lunatic's retreating form, and Peter feels nausea bubble up from his gut as he watches the man's nostrils flare. The scrape of Jason's feet against the wet floor comes to a sudden halt, his gasping breathing ending in a huff as he quickly looks up, his glowing eyes sparking in a mixture of delight and shock when he catches sight of Peter standing on the lamp above him.

  
"Why, hello-hello!" Jason says, smiling viciously. "You have made my day, let me tell you!"

  
The man's voice is breathless, his cheeks turning red from exertion and his lips slowly turning pale from blood loss. He limps around the perimeter of the light source, his back hunching slightly as though he was a hungry predator stalking his prey. His tongue darts out as he speaks, eyes never straying from Peter's form above him.

  
"I mean, you have just made my job so easy, because now I have a reason to _really_ hurt you." Giving a giggle from behind his hand, Jason swings his body around suddenly, more red sliding down his now trembling leg as he starts to circle the opposite way. The cuffs he has gripped in one hand slap his arm at the sudden motion, but the mad-man doesn't seem to feel the pain. "You must think that I hurt without reason, that I hit you with no sort of plan in mind, but I always have a plan, a trick up my sleeve."

  
Peter gulps, his vision starting to get blurry around the edges. The light below him sways to the movements of his shivering body, and the teen hisses through his teeth as his whole being aches. His jaw throbs as he clenches the bones, adjusting his hands on the pole as his feet slip further down, the rubber squeaking against the smooth metal and causing his ears to ring. Looking back down, Peter is relieved to see that Jason hasn't seemed to notice his weakening state, and the man continues to talk as though he was on a stage and the whole world was watching.

 

"Right now for instance, I am just waiting for you to fall right into my lap, little spider."

  
His hazel eyes shine in the yellow light when he looks up, teeth on full display as his lips curl. He gives a throaty chuckle at Peter blatant look of confusion, reaching up to run one dirty, blood smudged hand through his long hair, the other continuing the violent swinging of the handcuffs.

  
"What's wrong Peter? Did you forget about the drug I injected you with right when I entered your pretty little room?" The man coos, batting his eyes at the teenager above him.

  
Gathering his thoughts for a second, Peter shakes his head, trying in vain to control the frantic pulsing of his heart, his lungs constricting against his rib cage and making his chest throb. Blinking away the tears from his stinging eyes, the young Stark goes cold when he feels his hands beginning to tingle, his fingers starting to slip from around the now warm metal as his vision swims.

  
"It's called cyclobenzaprine, little boy. It's used as a muscle relaxer, makes the person injected sleepy and lucid. I gave you about 800 milligrams, right into your blood stream. I'm actually surprised you are still awake now, but no matter, it should knock you out in around 5 minutes. And I'm just going to stay right here until you fall."

  
Jason stops speaking after that little speech, the metal of the cuffs slicing through the humid air as he continues to swing them around. Peter blinks slowly, opening and closing his mouth as his tongue starts to get heavy. His hands slip from around the pole and he starts, giving a small yelp as he latches back on, his side and head burning. Ignoring the laughter of the monster below him, the teenager tries desperately to stay awake, using the techniques he has seen his Dad do to pull an all-nighter.

  
But his fingers don't seem to respond to his commands, and he can't seem to focus long enough to even try to count to 100. Feeling his frustration rise up, Peter suddenly feel hot and cold at the same time, his skin starting to get soaked with sweat even as his body shivers. His vision flickers in and out, and he sways, the light under his feet squeaking as it rocks.

  
Looking down, the teenager barely has time to glance at Jason's glowing smile of sick pleasure before the ground rises up the meet him.

 

* * *

 

Peter dreams of his father.

  
Tony was holding him close, brushing the hair back from his sweaty face and kissing his temple. The genius's lap is soft under Peter as he shifts closer, tucking his face against the blue glow of the Arc Reactor. The man was humming quietly, the sound deep and vibrating against his throbbing cheek as Peter sniffs. His Daddy's arms are tight around him and the boy basks in the safety he feels, if only for a moment. Tears streaming down his face, the teenager sobs openly, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound escaping.

  
Squeezing his burning eyes shut, Peter pretends that the comfort he is experiencing is real until the ruthless call of conciseness is too strong to ignore. He falls back into the darkness, the ghost of his Dad's arms around him fading as he wakes.

 

* * *

 

  
He doesn't feel his body hit the ground, or hear Jason's great howls of delight when the lunatic snaps the handcuffs around his raw wrists, but when his eyes snap open for the second time that day, Peter figures he can piece together what he missed pretty well.

  
He is laying on his back, his hands stretched out behind his head, and his feet dragging, kicking up small clouds of dirt and making his already blurry eyes water even more. His head is still fuzzy, and he knows that the dream he had will continue to haunt his thoughts even as he goes into survival mode.

  
Looking up, the teen watches the lamps fade in and out of focus as he is forcefully pulled back toward his cell, his head bouncing along as Jason adjusts his grip on the cuffs. Glancing back, the man's grimace of exertion is tipped into a grin when he notices his captive's awakened state, and he starts to walk a little faster, his voice muffled and breathy when he talks.

  
"Sorry for the bumpy ride, but I couldn't lift you and carry this at the same time."

  
Raising one hand, Peter nearly pukes when he sees the knife that was once buried in the man's leg being lifted over his head, his and Jason's blood mixing on the smudged metal as it is tipped on it's side for viewing. Huffing a wheezing chuckle, the monster puts his hand down again, taking a sharp turn and making sure to bump Peter against the brick wall a couple of times. The teen tries to pull away, but the metal is constricting against his wrists and he slumps in pain and exhaustion after a few tries. He whimpers, shaking his head against the fog that clouds his brain.

  
Finally, they make it to the small holding room.

  
Giving a grunt, Jason practically throws Peter against the wall, quickly reaching over and reattaching his hands to the chains still siting on the wet floor. The young Stark doesn't try to resist, his bones aching and his side beginning to bleed once more as he is forced to sit up, whining high pitched when Jason pulls his neck.

  
"Shut up!" The man roars, his palm hitting against Peter's cheek and leaving behind a dark red welt.

  
Gasping, the teenager spits at the lunatic's feet, his head snapping to the side and his pupils blown wide in terror. Noticing a movement at the corner of his eye, Peter flinches, hating the feeling of the metal holding his arms captive as Jason stuffs on large hand into his pocket. Squirming in disgust, he kicks in the man's direction, but before he can even get close to hitting the vile creature, his hand is gone and he is straightening up. A white object is suddenly pushed into his face and the teen rears back in alarm, blinking quickly as he attempts to focus.

  
Peter feels his heart drop when he sees the Lego squeezed between Jason's dirty fingers.

  
"I didn't feel this the first time I caught you, but I am not making that mistake again. I hope you enjoyed your freedom while it lasted, Pete, because you are going to be here a while if Stark doesn't hurry up with the fucking money."

  
Slipping the white plastic into his mouth, Peter lets out a sob of despair as the lunatic swallows the Lego in one gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing. Hitting his fist against his black shirt, the man clears his throat after a second, smirking at Peter when the boy clenches his fists in anger.

  
"Now that we have that out of the way, lets get on with the show, shall we?"

  
Barking in amusement, Jason twirls his fingers in a twisted sort of jazz hands, shrugging when Peter continues to glare at him. Hazel eyes lit up, the man shuffles quickly over to the table still on the far wall, cracking his knuckles in a cheesy show of false strength. Groaning softly, Peter tenses up in surprise when the mad-man doesn't immediately turn on the video camera still set up, instead reaching behind him and pulling out his cell phone.

  
Quickly typing in a number, the man unlocks the screen with a small click. The artificial light is bright in the dim room and Peter squints against the glow when it is suddenly turned toward him.

  
"I hope you have your smile ready, Petey, because I think it is about time we gave your old man a call. But not just any call, oh nope nope nope! We are going to use-drum roll please!"

  
When Peter doesn't move, the man continues, his tone straying someway between lighthearted and playful, to dark and demented. The young Stark shivers when his beady eyes focus on him, the light from the phone reflecting in the dull depths. Clearing his throat, Jason practically yells the next part, his voice cracking and echoing off the walls.

  
"We are going to use FaceTime, Pete! Make sure Stark feels the pain you will be experiencing all nice and personal like."

  
With a smile like broken glass, Jason produces a crinkled piece of paper from his pocket, the ink marked on the lines much too small for Peter to read. The man squints at the numbers, typing the digits one at a time into the phone with painstaking persistence. After a few failed attempts, Jason gives a quiet whoop of triumph as he presses call with a hard jab of his thumb.

  
The long beeping of the signal going through is the only sound, the dripping of water fading to the background as Jason quickly walks back over to Peter. The still ringing phone is held out and facing both of them, the man making sure to push the boy's face into the frame with enough force that Peter feels his jaw pop.

  
Finally, the call is answered, his Daddy's pale and sweaty face coming into view on the little screen. He has the phone pulled close to his face, his eyes bloodshot and hair frazzled from what must be constant pulling. In the background, Peter can hear the whirls of Dummy and the other bots, but his father's raspy breathe drowns out the noise as he continues to stare at the screen in shock.

  
Finally the Billionaire speaks, blinking rapidly against what must be tears as he shifts his phone in his hands.

_  
"Oh God, Peter, baby. . ."_

  
Swallowing down his lingering guilt, Peter squirms in Jason's strong hold, freeing his chin from the man's grasp, and lets out a whine. Flinching, the teenager pulls back, expecting the lunatic to punch him again, but the man is just watching the intersection with an expression of wonder.

  
Ignoring the sudden flow of tears slipping down his bruised cheeks, Peter tries in vain to reach out to touch the screen, his father watching him with heart stopping agony shining in his dark eyes.

  
"Dad." Is all Peter says, his voice cracking and throat catching in a sob. "Da-Daddy please, _please_!"

  
He doesn't even know what he is asking for. To be saved? To be held and safe and loved? He doesn't even know, but that doesn't stop his pleading, and the teen knows that he should be stronger and not give into the fear and pain, but he can't take this much longer.

  
His Dad reaches his own hand out, his fingers tapping against the edge of the screen even as his own eyes fill with tears.

_  
"Shhhh, I know kiddo, I know. I'm coming Peter, I promise. Just stay strong for me, sweetheart, Daddy is coming to save you, shhhh."_

  
Peter hiccups, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasps for air. His Father continues to make soothing sounds, the speaking cracking along with his voice when the emotion gets to be too much for the both of them.

  
The teen is too focused on his Dad to notice the fist suddenly flying toward him, and his cry of shock and pain is wrenched from him when Jason slams his knuckles into his already busted up cheek. His head hits the wall behind him, vision flashing white and ears ringing as he slumps against the wet brick. Breathe ragged, Peter listens as Tony shouts a mixtures of curses and fury filled growls at Jason as the man scoots into the frame.

  
"Hello there, Stark!" The mad-man says, voice pleasant sounding and words coated in false honey. "I know I told you we had an hour until the saga continued, but I think Pete wanted to speed up the process a little bit."

  
Ignoring the rage filled sputtering coming from the phone, Jason tilts the camera so that it focuses on Peter's still moaning form on the ground. Squinting his puffy brown eyes, the spiderling meets his Dad's gaze, shame coating his black tinged cheeks a light shade of pink. Tony just continues to stare solemnly at his child, all the anger that once clouded his eyes being brushed aside as he focuses his entire being on his boy in front of him.

  
"Do you want to tell Stark what you did, little boy?" Jason asks, tone nasally. After getting no answer, the man jerks his foot out, hitting the teenager in the stomach and watching with an unholy smile as he coughs. "Fine, I guess I will do the honors then."

  
The man then begins to tell the story of how Peter picked the locks on the chains and got out. As he talks, the man makes exaggerated movements, sometimes hitting and kicking Peter, and sometimes just waving his arms like a crazy person. The young Stark shivers when his father's now cold gaze slips to the lunatics moving form, the pure rage he sees flashing in the brown depths making him ache somewhere deep in his chest.

  
But what else he sees makes his heart soar.

  
His Dad has a look of careful concentration on his face only few would be able to spot. His brows are slightly funneled, and his eyes are flickering slightly from side to side, as though he was reading something with extra caution. Peter only has a second to wonder what he is planning before Jason's foot is slamming into his back once more. Leaning most of his weight on the poor boy below him, the man continues with his highly exaggerated tale as Peter gasps in pain, feeling the pressure building up in his lungs.

  
Finally, with one final stomp of his tennis shoe clad foot, the red head ends his tale, his arms held out and his head tilted high. Giving a huff when none of the expected applause meets his ears, Jason shrugs, giving Peter one last slap before he steps off of him. The spiderling sucks in air, feeling his lungs burn as the much needed oxygen enters his airways, his Daddy stopping his planning for a second to look him over with concern flashing across his face. Widening his eyes, Peter can tell that his father is in his Iron Man suit and he frowns in confusion, but doesn't speak yet, knowing that Tony has a plan of some sort.

  
"So, what do you say, Stark? Are you proud of your boy for being a smart ass and almost killing me in his attempt to leave this nice place?"

  
As he talks, Jason is shaking his head as though he was trying to tell Tony no, but the genius just snarls, lips curling in disgust and fury.

  
_"I have never been prouder of him in his whole life_." The elder Stark says, voice soft despite the anger showing on his face.

  
Feeling his inside warm, Peter knows that his Dad meant much more then what he was letting Jason see, and the teenager sniffs, shifting in discomfort as water soaks through his jeans. Jason growls in frustration, running one hand rapidly through his hair as he walks around, the phone held high, and his legs still thumping with a slight limp.

  
"Now that we got that out of the way, about the money we agreed on. I want you to-"

  
But the Billionaire cuts him off, his voice filled with anger. His eyes are narrowed however, and Peter knows that he is desperately trying to get a glimpse of his face as the lunatic continues to walk sporadically around.

 _  
"Let me tell you something, you mother fucker."_ Hissing _,_ Tony spits the words out _,_ tone like fire and eyes burning just as hot _. "You had better be ready to fucking die a slow and painful death when I get to this Goddamn wear-house because I am going to rip you apart slowly, piece by piece until you are nothing more then a pile of smoking ash and dust on the cursed ground that you stand on. And then I will let S.H.E.I.L.D lock you up for so long, you will never see the light of day again."_

  
Blinking in shock, Jason cocks his head to the side, Peter watching as goosebumps rise along his arms as he understands the true meaning behind Tony's words.

  
"B-but how did you-I mean, what-" He sputters, licking his lips and stopping in the middle of the room.

  
From his vantage point, Peter can't see the screen, but his Dad's smirk of triumph and fury is present in his voice, and the young Stark cries now in a mix of relief and anticipation, his body tensing when Jason steps unsteadily closer, Tony continuing to taunt him even as the man staggers.

_  
"I've been tracking your phone since you first called me, you stupid asshole. Why the hell did you think I even answered the call in the first place?"_

 

The sound of his thrusters are now on full volume through out the room as the speaker picks up on the blast.

 

_"Now, get ready to die, you sick, evil, fucker."_

  
With cry of vexation, Jason throws the phone against the wall, where it shatters, small bits of metal and glass raining down around them like bits of twisted confetti. Chest heaving, the man grabs the blood stained knife from the table, the metal ringing as he closes in on Peter's now shaking form, the light over head getting blocked by the hunched figure and shadowing him in the pocket of darkness. The spiderling lets out a terror filled cry as the red head looms over him, the knife soaring over the man's head and arching toward him, the red liquid glowing. Lifting his arms up in a last attempt at self defense, Peter braces himself for the blow that is sure to come.

  
But it never does.

  
With a bang, the door to the cell is suddenly blown off, and a blur of red and gold metal comes barreling in, his Dad's yell of rage bouncing throughout the room as he slams into Jason's body with enough force to shatter bone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and don't forget to comment!:D


	7. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IronDad comes to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, my favorite and the most amazing people in the world (aka. My Readers)! Thank you so much for everything you guys do for me, I appreciate every single one of you and treasure your kind words!:) Keep on being awesome and I hope you enjoy Chapter 7 ❤️
> 
> Dedicated to Alana. :D
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related material. 
> 
> Trigger Warning For Blood and Violence!

* * *

 

Tony doesn't know he could ever feel this amount of pure instinctual anger.

  
When the bastard had called him, the genius had been frantically searching through the local landlord's records, all of the screens in the lab opened and Friday sorting through the massive amount of data flowing through. The A.I had tried to warn him of the incoming call, but Tony had been so distracted with the new information he had just discovered that he almost missed the FaceTime request.

  
After spasticitly hitting the answer button for a few breathless seconds, the Billionaire had stared in shock at the beaten and bloodied image of his child that had looked back at him.

  
Throughout the whole exchange, it had taken every once of his self control not to scream and throw the nearest object in fury. As he had spoken with both Peter and Jason, he had Friday trace the call, the small red dot that had blinked on screen glowing like a beacon of hope.

  
He had gotten to the wear-house in record time, his thrusters getting pushed to their max limit as he sped across the sky, breaking the sound barrier multiple times and creating ripples across the atmosphere. He had watched with a heavy heart as the monster hit and stepped on his baby, feeling sick when the only thing he could do was keep flying. As he moved, he silently communicated with Friday, telling her to call S.H.E.I.L.D and have them locate his suit and follow him. After a few minutes did he see the black vans zooming down the highway to his left, the sun bouncing off the slick metal.

  
Once he was on the roof of the gigantic building did he tell the lunatic of his arrival, feeling a sick bubble of satisfaction build up when Jason sputtered like an idiot. Quickly blasting a smoldering hole through the thin metal, Tony had entered the building, the smell of musty mold and stagnant water filtering through his helmet. He did not waste any time, soaring through the hallways and taking a sharp turn. Right in front of him was a thick iron door, but with a loud bang that left his teeth chattering, the genius had flown straight through it, hitting Jason right as he was raising a bloodied knife above Peter's cowering form.

  
He had screamed then, a high sound of primal parental rage that burned the inside of his throat as it was forced up.

  
They landed a few feet away, Jason's body taking the brunt of the impact at he gets slammed against the dirty brick wall, his head smacking against the stone and causing him to groan in pain. The sound edged Tony on, something deep inside him howling for blood and revenge as he lifts one metal hand and punches the man hard in the face. Jason's nose breaks with an audible crack, blood gushing out and streaming down the side of his face as he lets out a deep laugh.

  
"S-should hav-have known y-you would track my ph-phone, Stark." He says, grinning despite the blood clogging his mouth, his yellow teeth coated in the crimson liquid. "Should have k-known yo-you would come a-and save your lit-little bast-bastard."

  
Shaking in pure fury, Tony feels his teeth grind as a growl builds in his chest, his eyes flashing a dark brown and fists clenching as he grabs the man by his wrinkled and liquid soaked shirt. Lifting him up, the Billionaire slams him back against the wall, feeling satisfied when he hears the crack of bone.

  
The man's now dazed hazel eyes bore into his when he leans down, his breathe ghosting over his bloodied ear and ruffling the dirty hair getting pulled by the metal hand.

  
"I want to kill you." Hissing in rage, Tony wraps one hand around the lunatic's throat, squeezing only slightly as the man frantically grips the red arm, his weak human fingers doing nothing against the Iron Man suit. "I want to rip the skin from your body and tear your insides out with no remorse because you hurt the most precious thing in my life and I will _not_ stand for that."

  
Jason's face is slowly turning a light shade of blue, his lips trembling still in the broken remains of a smile as his hands pull at the grip locked around his throat. His chest expands rapidly, his lungs no doubt burning like a mad fire by now as he tries to suck in air. Tony waits until the monster is falling limp before he lets go, watching as the man slips to the wet floor, body racking with coughs and breathe wheezing. Still, he laughs weakly, flinching when Tony brings a hard foot down on his rib cage, his bones popping and snapping at the force.

  
"W-why don't you kill me then?" He finally asks, glaring up at the superhero when he gets his breathing under control.

  
Tony shrugs, bringing his foot down again and causing the man to let out a grunt. "I would, trust me, but S.H.I.E.L.D has given me specific orders not to kill you, something about using you to find the last remaining weapons still scattered around the world, yada yada yada."

  
Jason's eyes suddenly flicker to something behind him, and Tony quickly turns his head, keeping his foot crushed into the bastard's chest and his hands locked in front of him.

  
What he sees breaks his heart.

  
Peter is desperately trying to stand up, his legs wobbly and wrists still chained to the wall. He is gasping in pain, his doe eyes bright with fever and face smeared with blood and sweat. He is crying silently, tears cutting rivers through the dirt and dipping down his chin, falling to the floor and slipping into the cracks. After a few failed attempts at walking does the boy give up, slumping against the wall and watching his father through hooded, pain filled eyes. His hands twitch at his side, fingers curling against his jeans as he shivers. His whole body is ridged and Tony has never wanted to scoop him up as much as he did now, curl his body around his child and protect him from everything and everyone.

  
Peter notices Tony watching him, his lips quivering and blood still dripping from his nose. His face is a mask of bruising and his eyes are puffy and red from crying.

  
_Daddy_. He mouths suddenly, hands reaching out in Tony's direction, and his fingers curling. He looks desperate, and the Billionaire has to fight with everything in him not to immediately run over there and rip the chains from around his wrists. A movement under his foot has the genius snapping his head back around, the glowing blue eyes of the suit seeming to narrow in unconfined hatred as they glare down at the bastard still getting pushed to the ground.

  
Jason is watching Peter, his tongue darting out to wet his dry and blood stained lips, dark eyes clouded in pleasure and pride. Feeling suddenly sick, Tony reaches down and grabs the man's stubbly chin, twisting his face like he saw the monster do to his son not too long ago. Snarling, the elder Stark suddenly lifts his face mask up, exposing his teeth when Jason continues to stare at him in shock.

  
"I wouldn't look at my child that way again, if you want me to keep my promise to S.H.I.E.L.D."

  
But the man just smirks, turning his eyes back to Peter's direction and even moaning slightly as he looks, his eyes shining in mirth and his face twisted in sick arousal.

  
"He did so fucking good for me, so _beautiful_. . ." Jason whispers, lips barely parting and breathe rattling.

  
Tony sees red.

  
His hands fly out on their own record, smashing into Jason's face again and again, pulverizing his nose and breaking his jaw. Shortly after the beginning of the assault does the monster begin to struggle for the first time, his muffled shrieks of agony pushing Tony to an extreme he would have never thought possible. Over and over again, he swings the fists down, enjoying each crunch of bone and tissue like a starving man would devour bread, his snarls and shouts of anger echoing through his helmet. Ignoring Friday's voice when she informs him that the man had passed out, Tony kept on hitting, the impacts fueling the fire in his blood.

  
He would have punched the man to death if not for the sudden hand on his shoulder.

  
Snapping around quickly, his bloodied fist raised and his body still running on adrenaline, the Billionaire stops himself just in time, his hand inches away from the flinching form of a S.H.I.E.L.D Agent as the woman steps back. Her short blond hair glows slightly green from the blue light of his suit and Tony reluctantly lowers his fist.

  
"Mr. Stark," she says, voice slightly breathless, "I think we can take it from here, thank you."

  
Shaking his head, Tony slowly stands up, choosing to not look at Jason's busted up face as the Agents drag him to his feet, hand-cuffing him and lowering him far too gently for Tony's liking onto a stretcher. The bastard is still passed out cold, his hands falling limp against his protruding stomach as they start to move, the rubber wheels squeaking on the wet floor. The same Agent that stopped Tony's vicious attack is still standing next to him, a bright red pen making quick tally marks on a clipboard as she gets her bearings back.

  
They both watch as Jason is slowly transported out of the room, the sunlight filtering in from the hole Tony made causing the white sheets to glow as they pass through.

  
A movement out of the corner of his eye catches the Billionaire's attention and he whirls around just as a kind looking male Agent snaps the locks off of Peter's handcuffs, the metal ringing. His boy is looking around with wide eyes, his movements slow and gaze glassy. He flinches suddenly as the Agent leans toward him, a sob catching in his throat as his side begins to bleed again. The sound sparks something in Tony that is impossible to ignore, and he stomps over, ignoring the pressing questions of the female Agent as she follows.

  
When he gets over to Peter's shaking form the Agent closest to his son backs slowly away, his hands held up in surrender as Tony snarls. A whimper from the small boy has him moving, the Iron Man suit falling from around him and he sinks to the floor, ignoring the dirt and water that soaks through the knees of his dress pants. Peter wraps his trembling and weak arms around his neck, burying his bruised face in his chest and staining the white fabric red.

  
"Dad," The teenager croaks out, wet sobs slipping past his lips as his father pulls him even closer, resting the spiderling in his lap and curling his body around him. " _Daddy_."

  
Gently shushing him, Tony runs his fingers through his soft brown locks as Peter pushes himself impossibly closer, his grip on the genius's shirt tightening as he sniffs. Tony just rocks them slowly from side to side, trying to ignore the burning of his own eyes as he begins to calm down.

  
He ignores the Agents that file into the cramped room, the flashes of cameras illuminating up the dark room like bolts of lightning. Humming softly under his breathe, the Billionaire brushes the tears from his child's red face with one trembling and bloodied hand, the other curling tighter across the teen's shivering back as he pulls him closer.

  
Closing his eyes, Tony leans his forehead against Peter's damp locks and just breaths in his boy's scent as they clutch each other, both trying to calm their racing hearts and forget about the horrors this day had brought upon them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!:D Kudos make my day and comments fuel my writing;)


	8. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Peter finally leave the cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!:) Thank you for being amazing and continuing with the awe-inspiring support! It means so much to me!:D THANK YOU!
> 
> Dedicated to Alana ❤️
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

* * *

 

They only sit there for a few minutes, but it seems to stretch for hours as Peter trembles in his arms.

  
Tony doesn't move, his hands just clutching his child tighter against him when the boy flinches, the Agent taking pictures of the blood on the floor a few feet away backing up slowly at the Billionaire's heated glare. Pressing his lips softly against Peter's temple, the genius listens to the almost silent whispers that are spoken against his chest, his baby's breath hot against the now damp fabric that was his shirt.

  
"Dad. . . Please please. . . Daddy, please it _hurts_ , please. . ."

  
Tony just runs his fingers through Peter's hair, his son leaning into the touch with a soft whine. Looking around quickly, the genius glares at an Agent, his brown eyes narrowing in distrust as the man keeps his distance. Reaching out with his free hand, the elder Stark snaps his fingers sharply, the sound popping and attracting the attention of the man a few feet away. Setting down his camera, the Agent walks over to both father and son, the bulb overhead causing his black hair to illuminate slightly in the limited light. His name tag, reading Damian, swings in time with his steps.

  
"What can I do for you, Mr. Stark?" He asks softly, the gun on his belt jingling as he leans down.

  
"Can we-" Pausing to adjust Peter in his arms, Tony ignores the way his legs are starting to fall asleep. "Can we please get my son to a Hospital or back to the Tower so that he can be looked over?"

  
Eyeing the cell around them, the young man nervously shuffles from foot to foot as Tony just continues to glare up at him, his posture straightening and a snarl curling his lips when Damian takes a step closer.

  
"I'm sorry, sir, but we have to make sure we keep the crime scene as authentic as possible and not disturb anything-" The Agent says, his green eyes widening in alarm and fear when the inventor cuts him off.

  
"I'm sorry, I don't think you heard me correctly, so let me say it one more time."

  
Leaning forward slightly, Tony deepens his voice to an almost inaudible level, his dark eyes shinning like burning coals in the half light.

  
"You are going to get my child out of this shit hole and getting medical attention in the next 30 seconds, or I will personally have Mr. Iron Guy over there blast a hole though everything that moves."

  
Tilting his chin at the Iron Man suit still located a few feet away, Tony watches with a satisfied gaze as Damian pales significantly at the threat. Harshly clearing his throat, the young Agent strides briskly over to a tall blond woman in the corner, his face pinched in worry and stress. Tapping the imposing woman on the shoulder, Damian makes exaggerated motions with his hands, gesturing back at both Starks as he speaks. The female Agent doesn't react outwardly, the only clear sign of her dissatisfaction being the hardening of her gray eyes.

  
Leaving the two S.H.I.E.L.D Agents to chat for a few moments, Tony turns his attention to his son once again and blinks back the stinging of his eyes when he looks down.

  
Peter's own eyes are closed, his face swollen and tinged black and blue, his mouth screwed up in a cross between a pout and a scowl. His breath is wheezing and whistling against Tony's chest as the boy inhales and exhales, the feeling something Tony treasures much more then he ever thought possible. Kissing his child's temple, the genius frowns when his baby's forehead is hot to the touch, small beads of sweat accumulating on his brow and settling in the short strands of hair near his neck. Feeling his frustration rise again, the father smooths down the matted mane of brown locks as he shifts his eyes over to the now approaching Agent, his free arm curling tighter over his shivering boy.

  
"If the first words out of your mouth are not 'we have the ambulance ready now' then you can go crawl back into the snake pit you slithered out of." Tony says, huffing when the woman just crosses her arms, her navy blue suit top wrinkling at the motion.

  
"We are currently unloading the medical equipment now, Mr. Stark, but you need to be patient. Getting worked up over a few extra minutes of waiting will not do anyone any good."

  
Tony just stares at her for few dumbstruck seconds, watching as she licks her lips, her ruby red lipstick getting smudged and smearing slightly at the corners. When she grins, she reminds the genius of the Joker and he nearly pukes at the mental image becoming implanted in his mind.

  
"Great, now that we have that cleared up, I need to get back to wor-"

  
Suddenly, the hand that was running through Peter's hair is held up, the red and gold metal now encasing the trembling appendage glowing a faint blue as the repulsers are charged up. The woman, her blond hair slipping past her tense shoulders and covering her now gasping mouth, takes one flinching step back. Her gray eyes are flickering between the weapon trained on her and Tony's blazing gaze, and she seems to come to a realization. Raising one hand, her palm out and obnoxiously bright purple nails glistening, she silently communicates with the lesser Agents behind her. They lower their guns with soft grumbles of weary displeasure, Damian settling his gun back into his waist with a click.

  
"No, I don't think you know who exactly you are dealing with," Tony growls, teeth flashing white when he smiles a feral grin, "My child was just tortured and is currently in a shit load of pain, so you'd better not tell me to fucking 'be patient' and 'wait a few minutes.' If you value your life and position at all, then you will get the best fucking doctors money can buy, and make it snappy. Got that Barbie?"

  
"My name is Kelse-" she starts to say, but shuts her mouth with a loud pop when Tony just frowns at her.

  
"I don't care what your goddamn name is, just get my son out of this place and we can play Guess Who all night if you want."

  
Shaking his head at the female Agent, the Billionaire turns his full attention back to Peter just as the boy blinks his doe eyes open. Looking up at his Daddy, the teenager shifts, his raw wrists brushing against the dirty fabric of the elder Starks dress shirt and causing a flash of pain to travel up his arms. He whimpers, and Tony reacts instinctively, kissing his still overheated head and wiping away his tears as they fall suddenly and with enthrallment.

  
The genius listens halfheartedly as the Evil Lady calls the stretcher in on her radio, her voice stuffed in annoyance. Tony can see out of the corner of his eye as she glares at him but he doesn't care, his only concern being the safety and care of his little boy.

  
The stretcher is pulled in after a few minutes, the white sheets glowing in the yellow light, and the machines surrounding it bumping on the unsteady ground. The two Nurses pulling the makeshift bed stop a few feet away from the Starks, their eyes wary and hands fidgeting with the wires around the bed as they wait for Tony to make the first move.

  
Blowing out a breath through his nose, the Billionaire glances at the people surrounding them once more, the Iron Man suit standing at attention a few steps away seeming to straighten up even more in a warning. Seeing no visible threats, Tony leans down so that he is speaking into Peter's ear, his breath making the soft chestnut locks quiver.

  
"Okay sweetheart, the stretcher is here to take you out of here. I'm going to lift you up and put you onto the bed, and then we are going to give you something for the pain. Feel free to squeeze my hand as hard as you need to, kiddie."

  
Feeling satisfied at the small nod of affirmation he gets in return, Tony carefully maneuvers his legs so that he is squatting, his arms wrapping around his child and pushing him further against his chest. His heart thuds painfully against his rib cage when he hears the low whine at the movement, and he makes soothing sounds in the back of his throat, humming quietly as he gently sets Peter down on the rolling mattress.

  
His baby immediately grabs onto his shirt, twisting the stretched out material in-between the raw digits as he pulls his father closer. Tony climbs into the bed, ignoring the looks the Nurses and Agents give him as he pulls Peter back against his chest. His son gives a content sigh, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the Arc Reactor as they start to slowly makes their way out of the damp and cramped room.

  
As they slide under the hole Tony made earlier today, the Billionaire watches the clouds pass overhead and the wind whip up the dust that was settled on the floor. They continue, the metal of the ceiling folding over the pair as they make a left turn, covering up the sky and engulfing them in shadow. The door that was once sealed shut is wide open, the setting sun making the metal burn a bright orange. They pass through the opening, the smell of cool air and fog filling up Tony's nose and making him sigh in relief.

  
The wheels of the cot gets caught in the long grass as they are pushed slowly toward the ambulance parked in the gravel a few yards away, the lights flashing and reflecting off the rusty metal behind them. The blond Agent stops at the doorway of the Wear-House, her lips pursed and hands settled on her hips. She seems to squint at Tony in agitation, before turning around and stomping back into the building, her pants ruffling into the wind created by the motion.

  
Tony just sighs, feeling the anxiety that has been clutching at his heart begin to fade away as both him and Peter are pulled into the Ambulance, the doors getting shut softly behind them.

  
As they drive toward the Tower, Tony watches the horror filled complex get smaller and smaller as they move, Peter's weight reassuring against his chest and the pain he must be feeling making the inventor's eyes burn in sympathy.

  
But at least his child is safe in his arms once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!:) Kudos make my day and comments fuel my writing;)


	9. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Tony begin to rest and Peter starts to heal physically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo guys!:) I hope everyone is having a great start to their weekend, and enjoys this more lighthearted, fluffy Chapter! Thank you all for being amazing and I love every single one of you! *hugs* 
> 
> This Chapter is a little on the short side (sorry!) But I promise the next one will be longer:)
> 
> Dedicated to Alana ❤️ 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

* * *

 

Peter doesn't want to leave his Dad’s side.

  
It had been 2 days since arriving back at the Tower, the smell of home and safety carrying a comforting weight when the teenager begins to float away into the painful memories that haunt his dreams. He is still in the Medical Unit, his Uncle Bruce making sure to check his ribs and head every few hours, the concussion he sustained causing his head to pulse and his eyes to swim. The wires that connect him to the heart machines jingle with each movement, the beeping becoming a steady backdrop against the suffocating silence of the infirmary.

  
He leans back against his pillow with a sigh, the juice that he was trying to bring up to his mouth sloshing with the shaking of his hands, the orange liquid dripping from the rim and dotting the white sheets beneath. His half-eaten sandwich sits crookedly in his lap, and the teenager pushes it away slightly as his stomach rolls, his multiple broken ribs throbbing in time with the nausea. A calloused hand suddenly grabs the plate, the dark sleeve of a black cotton shirt stark against the dull blankets.

  
“I know your pain medication makes you feel sick, but you have to eat more than this, baby.” His father says quietly, cupping his cheek with his free hand, his skin soft and warm against Peter’s face.

  
The teenager shakes his head, the room spinning around at the motion and making him squeeze his eyes shut, his head pulsing suddenly as his monitors speed up slightly. Letting out a harsh breath through his nose, he clenches his fists around the material of his Dad’s shirt, _his_ voice echoing through the young Stark’s mind and making him shiver.

  
_Keep those eyes open, Pete._

  
_No_ , the spiderling thinks harshly, forcefully shoving the dark thoughts back and blinking his doe eyes back open. _Don’t think about that now._

  
He doesn’t even startle at the closeness of his Dad’s face, his dark eyes warm with concern, and his grip around his waist tightening as he pulls the boy against his side.

  
Sniffling, Peter rests his throbbing head against Tony’s shoulder, the cotton soft under his red cheek. The white light overhead casts half of his father’s face in shadow as the genius leans down, the soft kiss he places against the teen’s forehead making him blink back more tears.

  
“I-I’m not very hungry.” Peter whispers after a second, cursing at himself internally when he stutters, hating the tremors running throughout his tired body. “I wi-will eat, b-but not now.”

  
Tony makes a noise of protest, the sound a deep rumble against the boy’s ear. However, he doesn’t push it, and they just sit there for a few minutes, the only sound being their combined breathing and the beeping of the medical equipment. The inventor begins to hum softly under his breath, his voice smooth and low as he adjusts his grip on Peter.

  
Peter shifts on the bed, the plate rattling against his rib cage as he turns his body into his father’s protective hold. Stifling a groan at the sharp throb that begins to build in his chest, the spiderling tries in vain to lift the container, the bread still sitting on the shiny surface sliding around at the movement. With a sharp curse, the weight was suddenly lifted, his Dad setting the offending disk onto the side wooden table with a thunk.

  
“Sorry, Peter, I meant to pick that up earlier. Do you need me to get Uncle Bruce?” Tony says quickly, running his hand through his son’s hair as he checks the wrapping around his chest.

  
The spiderling begins to shake his head again, but thinks better of it. “Nope, I think I’m okay for now.”

  
Narrowing his eyes, the Billionaire studies his baby’s face, and Peter can tell he wants to call the Doctor anyway, his gaze skidding from the bruises the teen knows fill his face to the long cut on his shoulder. Lowering his head to the warm shoulder once more, Peter carefully lifts his arms and wraps them around his Daddy’s waist, the material of his shirt rubbing against the boy’s raw skin.

  
“Can we watch a movie?” Peter suddenly asks, lifting his head and looking up at his father with large eyes.

  
Chuckling at the pleading look, the once playboy gives a smile, reaching over and picking up the small, black remote from beside the plate. Pointing it at the television screen hanging up on the far wall, Tony clicks the ON button, the red dot lighting up green for a few seconds as the technology process the request. Once the T.V. turns on, the elder Stark turns his face upwards slightly, tugging his son closer as he looks at the camera located a few feet away.

  
“Alright Friday, play the last Disney movie viewed please.” He requests.

  
“ _Of course, Boss. Would you like me to dim the lights for you as well?”_

  
Peter settles more firmly against his father’s chest as the man answers positively, the glow of the Arc Reactor casting faded shadows along the walls as the bright lights above them fade into a soft yellow. The T.V. goes black for a few second, before the happy time of the Disney opening theme plays, the sound making the air around them light and playful.

  
Curling further into the safety of his Dad’s arms, the teenager stifles a yawn as the warmth gathering beneath their shared blanket sinks into his bones.

  
“I love you, Kiddie. _So much_.”

  
His Dad’s voice is deep against his head, the words choked with an unknown emotion and making Peter swallow a sob, the opening scenes of _Mulan_ blurring as silent tears spill past his eyes. Gripping his father’s hands tightly in his own, the teenager responds just as his head falls more firmly against the inventor’s chest, the words slightly muffled from the fabric and the cotton becoming damp with tears.

  
“I love you too, Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!:D Kudos makes my day and comments fuel my writing ;)


	10. Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!:) Happy Halloween! I hope everyone has a fantastic and safe holiday and gets lots of candy and yummy food!;) 
> 
> Dedicated to Alana ❤️
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

* * *

 

It is around 3:15 a.m when Peter wakes up screaming.

  
His chest heaves as he sits up, ribs throbbing as his heart monitor beeps frantically in the empty room. The thin Hospital sheets are tangled around his legs, the fabric soaked with sweat and making the boy shiver. The light from the moon is filtering into the room, the half open blinds tapping against the wall from the air conditioning. The flickering glow from the machines surrounding him casts eerie shadows on the cream walls and Peter can feel his panic beginning to rise.

  
He blinks, eyes red and glassy, bringing his knees up to his chest, and tucking his face into the small pocket formed by the motion as tears fall down his bruised cheeks. The silence of the room quickly becomes suffocating, and the young Stark gives a low moan as the memories flash behind his clenched shut eyes.

  
_Dark, wet, scared, rough hands grabbing, hitting, bringing pain and fear and oh god no no nononononono get away get away, run run run, don’t touch me, don’t please please stop! why? Whywhywhywhy? The ground rises up, swallows him down down down down. . . head throbbing, eyes blinking open, harsh screams ringing through metal and damp hallways thick with crazy laughter Peter Peter Peter peterpeterpeterpeterpeterpet-_

 

“-eter! Peter!” A voice suddenly says, too close, _too close._

  
Hands suddenly grab his shoulders, the grip too tight to be his father, and Peter cries out on instinct, trying to vain to scoot back against the cool metal headboard behind him. The person says his name again, the tone desperate and the fingers curling even tighter around his arms, shaking him and forcing him to squint against the bright light now falling into the room. He looks up, hiccuping with silent sobs and falls limp when he notices who it is.

  
“U-Uncle Happy?” He croaks, voice cracking.

  
His Godfather lets out a relieved breath, dark eyes glowing in the limited light as he lets go of the once struggling teenager. Running one hand through his hair, the normally grumpy man takes a step back, face weary as he keeps a sharp eye on his beaten Nephew.

  
“Jesus, kid, you scared me half to death.” Reaching out once more, Happy sets one warm hand on Peter’s still trembling shoulder, the weight comforting now that he has calmed down slightly. “I though somebody was fucking murdering you.”

  
Peter feels his cheeks heat up, and he ducks his head, not meeting his Uncle’s eyes as he blinks back more tears. With shaking hands, he fiddles with the wires connecting him to the many machines surrounding them, the rubber burning his sensitive skin.

  
“I’m sorry.” He whispers, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

  
Happy humphs, his hand tightening slightly as he leans against the bed frame, the metal squeaking under his weight. For the first time, Peter notices the man is barefoot, his blue pajama pants getting ruffled in the breeze coming in from the window.

  
“Don’t apologize, Pete. It isn’t your fault.” Hesitating slightly, he coughs before asking the next question, “Do-uh-do you wanna talk about it?”

  
Shaking his head, Peter picks at the invisible lint on his night shirt, feeling his mouth go dry as his Uncle continues to awkwardly pat his arm. The only sound for a few minutes is the relentless beeping of the Heart Monitor, the leftover bag of popcorn from the movie night reflecting the red glow. Ignoring the pain of his injuries, Peter shifts, tucking his legs even closer to his chest as he leans more comfortably against the headboard, shivering as the cold Hospital air settles on his skin.

  
Out of the corner of his eye, the teenager sees Happy raise his hand, a frown on his face and his eyes concerned. Flinching away when the man reaches toward him, Peter feels guilt churn his stomach as his Uncle tucks the blankets further up his lap, trapping his body heat and making the spiderling feel warm inside. Smoothing down the white fabric once it settles, the Driver seems to be studying his face, eyes flickering over the dark bruising and welting cuts fading beneath the gown. Crossing his arms over his chest, Peter licks his lips, wincing at the taste of the stitches and the lingering rust of blood.

  
“Where is Dad?” He asks quietly, hunching over slightly as his head swims.

  
Happy shifts from foot to foot, his tan-yellow shirt bright in the incoming light. His shadow falls onto Peter’s form, the darkness a welcome relief from the burning of the glow.

  
“He isn’t here right now, Peter. You knew he was leaving tonight, and I’m supposed to be watching you.” Softening his voice when he notices the teen start to shrink further into the bed, the man starts to take a step closer. “He will be back in a little while, kiddo, I promise.”

  
And goddamn it, Peter _knows_ this. He knows that Tony was leaving to go deal with S.H.E.I.L.D and that he didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave his son who just got rescued alone in an empty Tower without his protection.

  
“ _You need to go to this meeting, Tony.”_ His Uncle Bruce had said, voice hushed as the last ray of sunshine disappeared behind the horizon.

  
His Dad had sighed, the sound of his pacing audible above the monitors. “ _I know that Bruce! I know-but I can’t just leave Peter, not after what happened. . . I need to protect him._ “

  
The footsteps stopped, and Peter felt the sensation of being watched as both his Uncle and Father seem to stare at his supposedly sleeping form on the bed a few feet away. The next time Bruce spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

  
“ _If you want that bastard locked up for the rest of his disgusting existence, then you need to go to this meeting. That is the only way you can protect Peter now.”_

  
His Dad had sighed and kissed his head, lips brushing gently against the bandage wrapped around his hair line. His whispered “I love you” tickled the teenager’s scalp, and then he was gone before Peter could even open his eyes.

  
So yeah, Peter knows that he will be back later that day, and they will watch movies and everything will be fine and he will be safe. But that doesn’t stop the panic that settles in the young Stark’s bones as the dark shade of the room seems to close around him, his own personal monster lurking in the corners just out of sight.

  
So with his heart in his throat and his stomach churning with a mixture of guilt and blood freezing fear, the spiderling looks up at Happy, fresh tears pooling in his brown eyes as his body continues to shake.

  
“I want my Dad, please Uncle Happy. C-can you just call him? Please, I-I really need him, _please_. I just want my Daddy.” Reaching out with trembling hands, Peter weakly grips his Godfather’s shirt, watching as the man’s face cracks at his tearful pleads.

  
Letting out a harsh breath through his nose, the Driver reaches quickly into the small pocket of his pajama pants, the black glass reflecting the light poring in from behind him. Taking a seat on the bed a little ways from his Nephew’s legs, the man dials Tony’s number, reaching over and patting Peter gently on the arm when the boy begins to cry again.

  
The phone seems to ring for a decade, the dialing tone bringing back memories that Peter would like to forget, and making him almost lose himself inside his head once more.

  
_Dark cold pain fear, get away, run run runrunrunrun, so dark, a deep voice, laughter thick with madness Peter Peter Peter Peterpeterpeterpeter-_

  
“Hey Tony, sorry to bother yo- hey, hey slow down, he is fine! He just had a nightmare and needs to talk to you.” A pause, Peter’s harsh breathing breaking the near silence as Happy talks with his Dad. “No, he is not bleeding! Yes, I checked. . . Yep, his bandages are still wrapped tightly around him, and his blankets are too. . . No, he did not get out of bed, I would know if he did- okay okay mama bear, here he is!”

  
With a roll of his eyes that Peter would normally snicker at, his Uncle holds the phone out to the boy, the screen lit up in his Father’s overly dramatic contact photo, all fingers guns and sunglasses. Trying to desperately get a hold of himself and to _stop freaking crying oh my god,_ Peter tries in vain to clear his throat before lifting the cell phone up to his ear, the screen warm to the touch.

  
“H-hello?” _Yeah, real smooth Pete._

  
“ _Peter?”_ His father’s voice is weary with stress and concern, the rustling of sheets on the other end of the line signifying that the man was shifting on a bed. “ _Are you okay, kiddo? Are you hurt anywhere?”_

  
“No-no, I’m fine!” Feeling suddenly stupid and guilty for waking the man up when he was obviously sleeping, Peter tries to hide the tremor in his voice, his poorly hidden fear making his teeth chatter. “Just, uh, ha-had a little bit o-of a bad dream, but I’m good now, I p-promise!”

  
His Dad hums on the other end, the flickering of a lamp on sharp in the speaker and Peter winces as he imagines the dark circles now forming under Tony’s eyes because of him.

  
_“Yeah, something tells me that isn’t the whole story, Peter.”_

  
His tone is soft and the boy feels his resolve begin to melt at the love behind his Dad’s words.

_  
“I know that you told Happy to call me because you needed to talk, and I also know that you aren’t telling me what’s wrong because you feel bad that you woke me up. But if you need me, baby, I will always be free to chat or anything you need because you are the most important thing in my life.”_

  
At these words, Peter finally cracks, sobs slipping from his lips as he curls his body sideways on the bed, his legs bumping against his Uncle’s knees. Happy doesn’t say anything, just watches him cry with a tortured look on his face and his eyes blazing with a hidden emotion. The teen grips the phone with both hands, digging the metal into his cheek so hard that pain shoots up his face and down his neck, trying to bury himself in the soothing sound of his Daddy’s voice.

  
He babbles a string of words and phrases all smushed together, the whole sentence running out of his mouth as he cries. As he continues to relay the nightmare, Tony makes gentle noises into the phone, his voice cracking at some points as he listens to his child’s internal agony. Out of the side of his eye, Peter sees his Uncle quickly becoming an alarming shade of white as he describes the way Jason had beaten and ridiculed him, and how in his dream it had happened again and again _and again and again and again. . ._

  
Finally, Peter finishes telling his tale, his whimpers and sobs slipping to a halt as he feels exhaustion creep into his bones. His father is still on the line, his voice deep and warm as he continues with his reassurances, the only indication of the genius’s own tiredness being a poorly held back yawn that cuts his sentence in half. A glance at the clock on the screen shows it has been a little over an hour, his Uncle’s throaty snores rattling the bed frame as he leans sideways against it.

  
“ _Do you think you can go back to sleep now, kiddie?”_

  
The young Stark begins to nod his head, then remembers that his father can’t see him, and instead answers with a soft “Yeah, I think so.”

  
Tony’s end of the call rustles as he seems to lay back down, the blankets blowing air into the speaker and making it staticky for a second. Once it becomes clear again does the Billionaire speak.

  
“ _Okay, Pete. I’m going to let you go now, but don’t hesitate to call at anytime if you need anything. Alright? I will always answer. I will be home later today, and we can finish our movie. I love you.”_

  
Suddenly, the teenager gasps, feeling silly as he clutches the phone tighter. “Wait! Wait, do you think that you can-that you can sing to me please? L-like you used to do when I was little?”

  
His face heats up, but he can’t force himself to regret asking when his Dad chuckles quietly, his laughter making something loosen inside of Peter’s chest and seeming to scare away any lingering dark thoughts floating around his head.

  
“ _Of course I can, sweetheart. What do you want me to sing?”_

  
“I don’t care. Anything.”

  
Lowering himself further into his pillow, Peter brings the phone up to his ear as he tugs the sheets back up, making sure to not kick his Godfather’s still snoozing form resting on his legs. The dried tear tracks on his face gets wiped away as he nuzzles into the soft fabric of his pillow. Feeling his eyes beginning to droop for the second time that night, the spiderling slowly slips away into dream land with his Dad’s gentle and protective voice cooing in his ears.

  
“ _Close your eyes_  
Have no fear  
The monster's gone  
He's on the run and your daddy's here

 _Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful_  
Beautiful boy  
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful  
Beautiful boy. . . “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!:D 
> 
> Song used: “Beautiful Boy” by John Lennon.


	11. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony goes to a meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people!:) Thank you all for the amazing continued support, it means a lot! I hope you enjoy Chapter 11!:D
> 
> Dedicated to Alana ❤️
> 
> Trigger Warning For Talk Of Suspected Sexual Assault!!!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

* * *

 

It is about halfway through the song when Tony realizes that Peter had fallen back asleep.

  
His son’s soft snores that are blowing into the speaker are the Billionaire’s own lullaby, and the man can feel his eyes beginning to droop. Pushing aside his need for sleep for a few minutes longer, he continues to whisper the words to the song into the phone, his voice getting sucked into the darkness of the room.

  
When Happy had called him earlier that night, the elder Stark had almost had a heart attack, not knowing if his child was in pain or just scared. The panic had lessened slightly once he had talked with Peter, but after all that had occurred in the last few days, he knew that he would continue to be on edge for a while. His son’s cries had broken his heart, the fact that he is not home to hold him and make it better steeling the genius’s resolve to get this whole ordeal over with as fast as possible and to make sure that Jason pays the price that Tony deems necessary. No one is taking his child away from him again, not when he still had breathe in his lungs and a heart beating in his chest.

  
So, with a gentle tap of his finger, Tony ends the call once the song was finished, setting the warm phone onto the nightstand beside him. He squints, trying to ignore the obnoxiously bright Hotel alarm clock impaling his eyes as he burros further under the covers, the sheets rough against his skin. He has about an hour left before his alarm is going to go off, and the man knows that he is going to need the little bit of extra sleep to make it through the shit bucket of a day he has ahead of him.

  
With a sigh that cracks his lungs, the man closes his eyes and tries to stop the memories of Peter’s sobs from looping through his mind, his toes curling and Iron Man armor gleaming in the light of the clock.

  
Just in case the negotiations get _difficult_.

 

* * *

 

The chilly November air is crisp and clean, the sheer coldness of it stinging Tony’s nose as he walks briskly down the busy sidewalk. The coffee he has clutched in one hand offers a welcomed relief to his almost numb fingers, the dark liquid burning his tongue as he gulps it down. The steam that rises fogs up his orange tinged glasses and causing him to grunt in displeasure as he wipes them off. Throwing away the cup in a corner trash can, the man quickens his pace as soft clouds drift by overhead.

  
The watch on his wrist reflects the golden glow of the rising sun when he glances at it, the shadows of the tall buildings around him allowing him to see the numbers inscribed in the metal.

  
_7:14 a.m._ Too damn early for this shit.

  
A sharp wind suddenly picks up as a cab zooms by, the D.C logo on the side glistening in the light as Tony’s dark dress jacket ruffles up. Feeling the building pressure of a headache fast approaching, the superhero barely has time to pop in an Advil before the dark gray walls of the Triskelion come into view about a block away. The surrounding waters of the Potomac River lap gently at the rocky shore, the small waves folding in on themselves and cresting with small strips of white foam.

  
A guard tries to stop the Billionaire once he reaches the door, but backs off with an almost forced apologetic frown when Tony flashes his I.D. card. Giving the man a sarcastic pat on the head when he passes, the elder Stark has to push down the urge to run back home and curl up with his son, wanting to just sit with him, watch a movie, and forget about all of the pain the two of them have suffered through.

  
But for right now, Tony will just settle with getting this meeting done without killing anyone.

  
“I am here to see Nick Fury. Yes, I am the real Tony Stark. No, you cannot get a picture with me. Please just point me in the right direction, then you can go back to pretending to type something on that blank computer screen, and going onto Pinterest to look at pictures of cats in sweaters.” Tony says, voice bored and eyes rolling when all the Security woman does is gasp at him as he walks up.

  
With a shaking hand, the guard points to the left, the long hallway lined with tall windows and potted plants meant to give the effect of nature in the metal interior. Giving the young woman a charming smile that has her stuttering, the Billionaire starts in the direction of the elevators located at the end of the walkway. His stride is direct and business like, face as hard as stone and his jaw aching as he clenches the bones.

  
The obnoxious elevator music is his only company as the room climbs to the top floor.

  
With a ding, the doors open, the sun casting the outside room in gold as Tony steps out. Pausing to get his bearings, the genius raises a hand against the incoming glare as he stomps his way over to Fury’s office, the metal plaque a vivid contrast to the light color of the wooden door.

  
Throwing open the entrance way, the once playboy ignores the glare Fury sends his way, instead choosing to pluck a seat from under the table and fold himself into it, the legs scrapping against the floor from the force.

  
“Alright, Nicky, lets make this quick. I have a Stark Junior that I would like to get home to sometime before lunch, and I do not think Happy knows how to correctly make a sandwich.” He says, tone snippy and fingers twitching as he pulls a black pen from his coat pocket.

  
Fury just shoots him a look, his eye patch seeming to crinkle up as he frowns. “We will deal with this for as long as I think we need too, and if you have a problem with that then you can go cry an ocean of tears and sail the fuck away from me. Understood Stark?”

  
Tony just blows out a puff of air, his cheeks turning red even as his fists clench in his lap. Eyes flashing a dark brown, the Billionaire desperately tries to rein in the anger he feels as Fury take a seat on the opposite side of the table, pulling out a pale yellow folder and laying it in between them.

  
Finally, he looks up, flashing the scowling man a fake smile that makes his face hurt. “Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the army cot this morning! Someone try and sneak peas in-between your mattresses last night, princess?”

  
“Let’s just get on with it, Stark.” The man sighs, opening the folder and pulling out a series of photos. “Can you tell me anything about the suspect in custody?”

  
Gritting his teeth, all of the false humor gets sucked out of Tony as he tries not to snarl as Jason’s twisted smile flashes up at him. The man is obviously dressed up in prison clothes, the dark orange jumpsuit contrasting with his bruised and puffy skin and making his busted up teeth stand out. The Billionaire feels a burst of pride well up in his chest as he takes in the damage inflected on the bastard’s face, his nose wrapped up and his head and face tinged black and blue.

  
Taking a deep breath, the genius forces his features into a look of calmness as he leans back in his chair, brushing his hair back with one hand and trying to ignore the concentrated look of the Director across from him.

  
“I can only tell you what you already know.” Tony finally says, “That he is a sick mother fucker that kidnapped Peter to try and ransom money off of me to earn back the attention of his MIA wife and daughter.”

  
Fury suddenly holds up his hand, effectively cutting the genius off and making him frown. “We watched the videos, Stark, that wasn’t so hard to figure out. What I meant was, do you know of any _new_ information that we can use to convince a judge that this man deserves to die for his crime?”

  
The inventor pauses before he answers, knowing that the Agent isn’t going to like what he has to say. “Nope, not at the moment, I’m afraid Grumpy.”

  
Fury just continues to stare at Tony with the same irritated look, his good eye starting to twitch and his lips pressing together in a tight line. When he speaks, his voice is almost mocking, and Tony feels frustration begin to pool in his stomach at the condescending tone.

  
“So, you mean to tell me that you have no new information what so ever about this man, and yet you have had 3 days to gather intel and come up with your case?”

  
“I didn’t think I needed to ‘come up with my case’, Director. All the evidence we need is in the horror movie videos the bastard produced, and I thi-“

  
“It doesn’t matter what you think, Stark! What we _need_ is for you to stop sitting on your ass up in that goddamn Tower and actually start doing your job!”

  
Finally, Tony has had enough. Sitting up suddenly, he leans in close to the Director, ignoring the man’s narrowed eye. His black tie brushes the table under his chin and the Billionaire can feel how red his face is getting as he jabs a trembling finger in Fury’s direction.

  
“Now, you listen here, _sir_.” The elder Stark hisses, feeling satisfied when the man’s eye begins to widen at the level of anger in his tone. “My job is not to gather all the pretty little details for you! My top priority right now is taking care of _my_ sick and injured _child_ who is in the Hospital recovering from _torture_ and making sure that he doesn’t rip his I.Vs out when he screams at night! So, I’m not just ‘sitting on my ass’ as you so eloquently put it, and if you think for one second that I won’t walk out of this room right now and never come back then you must be as high as a fucking kite and as stupid as a box of rocks.”

  
Feeling satisfied that he got his point across, Tony sits back once more, looking around the room and noticing for the first time how bare the walls are. There are no pictures or shelves or even plants anywhere in the room, only the desk that they sit at and the large window behind them. This small detail causes the anxiety already brewing in the once playboy’s chest to expand slightly and he knows that it is only a matter of time before he pops from the force of it.

  
Glancing back at Fury after a second, Tony is surprised at how shaken the man looks when he scowls, arms tightening as he appears to clench his own fists in his lap.

  
“Alright, Stark.” He says, tone loosing the slightly sarcastic edge and becoming serious. “We won’t ask you to collect any more data, but just answer the rest of my questions and you are free to leave.”

  
“That sounds more like it.” Tony quirks, kicking one foot up on the table and leaning more fully against his chair. “Make it snappy though, I don’t have all day.”

  
Seeming to physically hold back a sigh, the Director begins to throw the genius question after question, most being answered with a snippy “yes” or “no” and only one requiring some explaining.

  
“So, you are saying that Peter was not sexually assaulted while under the abduction of this man?” Fury says this with hesitation, seeming to understand that this was not a question to be taken lightly, but needing the information to correctly charge the monster.

  
Tony feels his eyes go dark, the whole room seeming to get cold as he stares at the now wary Director. A snarl forces his lips up, the man leaning away slightly as the genius locks his arms up tight, the urge to blast a hole through the whole building almost impossible to ignore.

  
Fury watches him with his mouth open in shock, having never seen the normally laid back Iron Man with this amount of pure instinctual _hatred_ on his face, the whole expression twisting his features into something truly terrifying and deadly. It makes the Director come to the realization that Anthony Edward Stark is not a force to be reckoned with, and that he could easily kill him with just a flick of the wrist.

  
He isn’t sure what to make of that information.

  
Rolling his shoulders to try and pull back the darkness rolling off of him, Tony doesn’t even react when Fury seems to flinch back when he stands up, his chair squeaking and the sun framing his body in a shade of dusty caramel. His eyes seem to glow when he speaks, the Arc Reactor gleaming under his shirt, and the words sizzling on his tongue from the heat of his rage.

  
“ _If he had even dared to touch my child in that way, he would be a smoking heap of ash and buried in the further pits of fucking hell where not even the devil himself would find him. I would have killed him without a single moment of hesitation.”_

  
Before Fury can even respond, the Billionaire is out the door, his hands still shaking and his lips white as he snarls. He can tell that the Director still had plenty of questions, but Tony was just done with everything, and he knew that he would have snapped if he didn’t leave right now. Picking up the pace, he passes stunned Agents as they quickly move around him, taking quick steps back in fear when they see his expression.

  
Stepping into the elevator and pressing the down arrow, the last thing Tony sees before the doors slip shut is Fury’s bewildered and stunned face as he sticks his head out of his office.

 

* * *

 

Once Tony gets home, his back sore from walking all day and his knees aching from sitting, he knows that Fury will handle the trial and that he can stop worrying. Shaking his head at the thought, the Billionaire slips off his shoes and joins his son on the couch, Peter’s face lighting up when he sees him and Happy scooting over to make room. Peter hums happily, curling up against his Dad’s side just as the movie begins to play, his half eaten dinner sitting on the coffee table near his legs. Happy grunts out a greeting before going back to stuffing his face with popcorn, but his eyes stay on the genius’s and he knows that the other man has a million questions.

  
Tony rests his head against his child’s hair, inhaling his scent and trying to force the emotion he feels down when he sees Peter still wincing, knowing that he needed to be moved back to the Medical Wing after this. His boy just sniffs, relaxing in his hold and the Billionaire kisses his temple, feeling love bloom in his heart and hating that Peter will most likely wake up in tears again tonight.

  
But at least Tony will be here to comfort him when he does.

 

* * *

 

  
When his eyes snap open later that night, however, it is not the sound of Peter’s screams that have awakened Tony, but the relentless buzzing of his phone right next to his ear. Giving a groan, the genius looks over at the bed right next to his, sighing in relief when Peter just continues to sleep, his breathing even and drool soaking into his pillow. Untangling his hand from his son’s, the genius reaches over and picks up the phone with a grumble as the cold air soaks into his skin.

  
Bringing the vibrating electronic device up to his ear, Tony answers, his tone gruff from underuse.

  
“Who the fuck is calling me at shit o’clock in the morning?”

  
He sits up, however, when Fury’s triumphant voice comes through the speaker, sounding far too awake for this time of night. Already feeling a sarcastic comment forming, the Billionaire gasps out loud at the man’s words, the sentence he prepared dying off in his throat.

  
“ _Jason was just pronounced guilty, Stark. His execution date is set for next Thursday at 6 p.m.”_

  
After hanging up the phone right after offering the man a gold star, Tony has to blink back the tears of relief that well up in his eyes as the feeling that builds in his chest threatens to over come him.

  
Because now Peter is completely, one hundred percent, no doubt about it _safe_. And that is the only thing Tony could ever really hope for.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to ImaKaraTabiHe for being amazing and helping me out with this Chapter!:) you are the best! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!:D comments fuel my writing and Kudos make me happy


	12. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All ends well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I had some extra time today, so I cranked this Chapter out for you all! I hope you enjoy:)
> 
> Dedicated to Alana ❤️
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man or any related materials.

* * *

 

The rest of the week passes by without much incident.

  
They mostly stay in the Tower, the genius fixing both him and Peter dinners and watching every Disney movie that Friday could find. Tony knows that he should be pushing Peter to go out into the real world, or at the very least back to school, but his boy’s fearful brown eyes make this a lot harder then it should be.

  
_Peter_ _is_ _still_ _scared_. The Billionaire thinks as he stirs the melted butter into the mashed potatoes, frowning harshly and gripping the spoon tighter. _It doesn’t matter that the fucker is going to be dead in a few hours, Jason still holds power over him._

  
Over both of them.

  
It’s funny, actually. Tony knows that the man is not escaping his fate, that he is not going to suddenly reappear on the street one day and rip Peter from his arms, take his baby away and hurt him again. But that doesn’t stop the elder Stark from scanning the crowd when driving down the street, making sure to check the security footage around their home before he goes to bed, and holding his child closer when anyone with even a hint of red in their hair or a speck of hazel in their eyes comes within 10 feet of them.

  
He knows that it is irrational, sometimes even stereotypical of him to react this way, but that doesn’t stop the hum of anxiety and blood chilling instincts that force him to take these actions. His thoughts are haunted with evil laughs and his son’s screams, the imaginative versions quickly becoming reality when he has to wake up every few hours to shake Peter from another goddamn nightmare, pushing the young boy’s head against his chest and blinking back his own tears.

  
A sudden beep to his left has the genius startling, and he glances down at the now almost soupy bowl of mashed potatoes that he has been beating for the past ten minutes. Shaking his head, Tony grabs the red and white oven mitts from the hook above the stove, the red numbers flashing at him as it continues it’s obnoxious alarm.

  
After double checking that the meatloaf is cooked all the way through, the elder Stark carries it over to the gleaming dinning table, the candles flickering as he brushes past. The sound of the T.V, now not blocked by the wall, carries over to him and he hides a snicker behind the mitt as the sound of Peter singing to _The_ _Lion_ _King_ carries over, the loud grumble of Happy audible in between the lines.

  
Setting the steaming dish into the center of the table, Tony stops for a second to admire his handiwork, all of the food piled up and the China sparkling. Giving a small smile, the Billionaire walks quickly into the next room, picking up a stray napkin as he goes.

  
What he sees next makes him laugh out loud and have a heart attack all at once.

  
Peter is standing on the back of the couch, his arms raised over his head and his mouth open wide as he screams/sings the lyrics in perfect unison with the movie, ignoring Happy as the man shoved his own fingers into his ears, his face pulled in a scowl. But his eyes are sparkling in mirth, and Tony knows that he is not actually annoyed.

  
“Peter! Get down from there now before you fall and hurt yourself!” Huffing out a harsh sigh, Tony quickly walks the few feet to stand behind the teen, trying to slow his racing heart and stop of the images of his son falling from flowing through his mind.

  
Reaching forward, the genius gently grips his son by the waist, picking him up easily and setting him back into the couch, the sound of Peter’s singing cut off short as he yelps. Squirming slightly, the teenage tilts his head back as far as it will go, the motion making his face turn red as the blood flows toward his brain.

  
“Hey, Dad!” He says, smiling widely and reaching out to wrap his arms around his father’s middle, squeezing tight.

  
Tony squeezes back without hesitation, the feeling of his child safe in his arms never loosing the magical quality no matter how many times they had hugged. Leaning down, his lips rest against the spiderling’s temple as he lets go, ignoring the smirk spread across Happy’s face and choosing to stare into the gleaming brown eyes below him.

  
“Hey kiddie, you ready to eat?” He asks, his smile never leaving his face as Peter jumps up, the rumbling of his stomach becoming audible.

  
“Duh!” Leaving begins the two adults, the teenager walks quickly in the direction of the decked out table, his limp barely seeming to bother him. “Uncle Happy, can you pause the movie please?”

  
Turning around, Peter fixes his large puppy dog eyes onto the unsuspecting man still sitting on the couch, the faded bruising on his face adding to the effect. Happy groans dramatically, snatching the remote from the coffee table and jabbing the button with a quick flick of his thumb, before standing up himself.

  
“There you go, kid. You can stop looking at me like that now.” The grumpy man says after a second, making a shooing motion with his hand and fixing his shirt with the other.

  
Tony crosses his arms over his chest, the Arc Reactor warm against his skin as he turns around. Rolling his eyes at the show of annoyance the other man was putting on, he reaches down and grabs the little orange bottle sitting on the table, the pills encased inside rattling at the motion. Narrowing his eyes, the Billionaire silently counts the number he can see without opening the bottle, looking sharply at Happy when he finds 2 more then there should be.

  
“Did Peter take his medication?” He asks, frowning when Happy shakes his head.

  
“I tried to get him to take them, Tony. But he insisted that he was fine and then started to dance on top of the couch. What did you expect me to do, shove them down his throat?”

  
Growling at the thought of anyone forcing anything down his child’s throat, the genius begins to walk back to the table, the sound of Happy’s dress shoes on the floor starting a few seconds after. Grunting out a cough, the taller man reaches over and grabs his friend by the arm, stopping them before they make it into the other room.

  
“I’m sorry Tony, I should have made him take them. I didn’t mean to make things more difficult for you.”

  
Shrugging, the Billionaire pats his honorary brother on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Hap. I know how Peter gets, and I’m just glad that he’s laughing again.”

  
And with that, both adults step into the kitchen, Peter’s impatient face starting back at them from his place at the table. He is holding his fork in his good hand, his other still wrapped tightly in a bandage and draped across his jean clad legs.

  
His knife has been pushed away, the sharp side flipped as far from Peter it possibly could, and Tony knows that sharp objects still cause the teen some panic. Reaching over, he ignores his boy’s flinch with a hot flash of guilt, and removes the utensil, setting if on the counter behind him and letting out a relieved breath when Peter immediately relaxes.

  
The glowing light from the chandelier above him is reflected in his child’s beautiful brown eyes, and Tony knows that he would do anything to keep that smile on his face.

  
Sitting down on his son’s left side, the elder Stark gently pushes the teenager closer to the table, his chair squeaking against the floor as it moves. Happy seats himself across from both father and son, grabbing his napkin and setting it on his lap as they start to fill their plates. Tony watches with eyes like a hawk as Peter takes his medication, ignoring his son’s grimace of disgust as the dry pills get forced down, the water doing nothing to ease the motion. Finally, he finished swallowing, and they all go back to just enjoying each other’s company.

  
They all talk and joke, the atmosphere light and familiar and safe. Family. Tony feels the tension he has held unknowingly in his shoulders loosen, his chest expanding with a emotion he can’t seem to name as he watches Peter snort at something his Uncle said, his child’s tussled brown hair smooth under his fingers as he runs his hand through it, smiling lightly when Peter leans into his touch.

  
All through dinner he keeps an eye on the clock, the red numbers flashing in the dim light. _5:22. 5:31. 5:46._

  
Finally, it reaches _5:55._

  
Tony himself tenses, feeling Peter shift in his seat and lean most of his body against his Dad’s, his head resting on the genius’s shoulder and his hitching breath tickling his father’s neck. Wrapping his arms around his child, Tony runs his hand up and down Peter’s back as they wait, feeling Happy’s dark eyes watching their every move as he goes quiet. Setting his chin against the spiderling’s head, lips brushing against his forehead, all three of them watch as the numbers slowly climb toward 6 o’clock.

  
The setting sun files into the room from the window, the New York City skyline becoming brighter as the glowing orb falls below the horizon, the moon poking its glowing pale face above the trees almost immediately afterwards. A dark shape flies by the window, and Tony watches as a bird catches one last insect before flying back home, the flutter of it’s wings almost audible in the silence that has over taken the room.

  
His phone buzzes almost as soon as it turns _6:00._

  
Swallowing down the lump in his throat, the Billionaire pulls his phone out of his pocket with shaking hands, tightening his hold on his baby when he flicks the device on.

  
_Mission_ _complete_. Is all it says, Fury’s number flashing across the screen, but the words meaning so much more.

  
Tony immediately begins crying, his tears dripping down his nose and landing with soft splats in Peter’s hair, his shoulders shaking as he sobs in pure relief. His son doesn’t even try to keep quiet, his cries filling up the room and echoing though the apartment as he practically climbs into his Dad’s lap. His whole face is a mask of solace, the wetness of his tears coating the elder Stark’s chest and making the fabric stick to his skin.

  
“He is gone, Peter. He is dead, baby, and you never, _ever_ have to worry about him again. He is gone gone gone. . .” Tony keeps repeating, his voice cracking and gravelly with emotion.

  
Peter doesn’t respond with words, just lets out a whimper and squirms closer, his hands shaking as he clutches his Daddy’s shirt in his fingers. He keeps nuzzling Tony’s chest, his bruised face no doubt having started to get sore from the constant pressure, but the teen doesn’t seem to care. His food forgotten, the Billionaire focuses his entire attention on his son, knowing that this moment was going to be one they all remember for a long time.

  
Out of the corner of his eye, Tony sees Happy discreetly wipe at the side of his face and knows that his brother is as overcome with emotion as him and Peter.

  
After a while, things begin to settle down.

  
Peter has fallen asleep, his face still pillowed against Tony’s chest and his arms wrapped around him. His cheeks are still wet with tears, and the father brushes them away with the pad of his thumb, curling his body tighter around his baby when the boy shifts. Happy waves his hand in front of his face, and Tony blinks, focusing his stinging eyes on the other man.

  
“You can go ahead and put Peter to bed, Boss. I can clean up dinner.” The driver says quietly, and Tony gives him a nod in thanks.

  
Standing up slowly, the genius gently lifts Peter into his arms, the teen groaning softly at the movement and burrowing into his arms more fully once comfortable again. He exits the room just as Happy begins to fill up the sink with soapy water. Walking over to the hallway, Tony shoves open his son’s bedroom door with his shoulder, careful not to bump his baby’s head against the entry way as he scoots inside.

  
Letting out a muffled curse as his toe collided with something hard, the elder Stark limps over and gently lowers his son into the hastily made bed. Grabbing the night clothes sitting on the edge, he changes Peter out of his jeans and shirt, the boy not even stirring once as he is manhandled. Finally the teenager is ready for bed, and Tony covers him up with the blanket, the light from the Arc Reactor casting a soft blue glow onto his small form.

  
Sniffling, Tony sits down next to him, smiling when the young Stark immediately curls into his side, subconsciously seeking out his father’s protection and comfort even while asleep. Clearing his throat, the genius begins to hum quietly onto the now darkened room, content to just watch the slight rise and fall of his child’s chest as he breathes.

  
Leaning over one more time, Tony softly kisses Peter’s temple and tucks the sheets more firmly against his boy’s form, brushing the hair back from his face and standing up. His back creeks, and he shifts, walking over to the still open doorway.

  
He stops, turning around and looking back, his heart filling with a love so fierce that it takes his breath away. The Billionaire’s shadow blocks the incoming light from the hall, and he moves to the side, blinking back tears when his son’s peaceful face comes into view, his mouth open in a silent snore and a small puddle of drool forming on his pillow.

  
He is the most precious thing Tony had ever seen.

  
Letting out a sigh of relief, the elder Stark blows one last kiss to his child’s sleeping form, watching the steady puffs of air escaping Peter and feeling so fucking lucky that he has his kid in his life. Shaking his head, he turns back around, flicking the light off as he goes and shutting the door with a soft thump, making sure to keep it cracked just in case  

  
As he walks away from his child’s bedroom, Tony knows that everything is going to start looking up for Peter and that his son will never have to go through something like this again.

  
He will make sure of it, no matter what stands in his way. His son is worth everything, and Tony swears deep down in his bones that he would protect him.

 

Always.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that ends The World Is Wide (But I Feel So Small). Thank you so much to everyone that viewed/commented/gave kudos/bookmarked! The love and support you guys have given me and this story just completely blew my mind and motivates me everyday!:) You’re honestly the best readers an author could ask for and I love and appreciate you all so much!:D
> 
> Now, don’t get too sad that this story has ended because I still have plenty of ideas (plus prompts that I have to write) XD Keep your eyes out for a new story within the next few days ;) 
> 
> And finally, I hope you enjoyed this story Alana and I hope that it was everything you asked for:) it was sure fun to write and thank you for sending me this lovely prompt!❤️ 
> 
>  
> 
> If anyone else has an idea for a story, you can message me here or on my Tumblr @ Keep-A-Bucket-Full-Of-Stars. Please just let me know that you are from AO3:) 
> 
> I love you guys! Thank you for reading and being amazing:D ❤️❤️❤️

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!:D


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